Shinjitsu no ō
by sama-chan
Summary: He had fallen so far. He was lost in a new world. But he had vowed to grow stronger too. He was awake now from his afterlife slumber. They had no idea what was coming, and he liked it that way. The choice was his. Which side was he on? EdWin. IchiRuki.
1. My Suffocating Stupor

Yeah. This is my first Bleach/FMA crossover, so I'd appreciate it if you don't criticize me too much. This is a pretty boring chapter I think, but it's just the prologue, and it kind of explains the background of the main character that this is about. I purposely made it anonymous, so that it'll be a slight surprise when he reveals himself in the next chapter. But I'm pretty sure that you all guessed who it's about. I've made it pretty obvious.

And as for how I spell the names in Japanese and stuff, I'm going with what I've read with the manga, and online spellings. I don't know Japanese, besides some phrases and how to pronounce it, so my translations are probably going to be wrong. I'd appreciate any corrections.

I don't own anything.

Italic is thoughts (usually).

Bold is usually the name of an attack or Zanpakutou.

Bold/italic is the Zanpakutou speaking.

The cherry blossoms were gone. They only came for a short period of time, but while they were there, they were beautiful and brought out the best in people. It was much like life. Life was ever fleeting, and while you were living, you had to live and bloom to the fullest. For every fallen petal, a memory to replace it, to form ties with the tree, to make room for another season of blooming blossoms. Every connecting branch formed a friendship, connecting even the smallest twig to the heart of the tree's world, the trunk. One minute the world was as simple to describe as a tree, and the next it was as complex and hard to understand as the magic that made the tree know when to bloom and when to let the petals fall. The cycle of life, another rule that governed the existence of the entire world, applied to the tree as well.

It was all he knew, rules that formed the world, that formed his ideals, his thoughts, his actions, his powers, and rules that formed who he was personally. He couldn't shake it off, the weight of the world's rules resting on his shoulders. Ever since he had died, it wasn't the same. Nothing was ever the same after that. He was happy that the world didn't need him, of course. But he was deeply lonely. He absorbed the world as he walked through its vast corridors, and he watched the world through a film, like he was watching a movie, and couldn't change what was happening. He felt like every day he stood there watching, his resolve and willpower wasted away. He would eventually become an empty shell, because he was lost. He couldn't find the strength to change the world he was stuck in.

But at the times when he'd fall to his knees after standing there watching for so long, he'd think of his past life, and the people that he'd given up so much for, and what they'd given up for him. He knew those people would look at him in disgust. Why was the great person they had known giving up for such a petty reason? He owed them to be stronger than what he was now. And the only way he could do that was to fight back. To stop the decaying soul that he had become, and reform into somebody that could be worth something. It was useless to fight against the truth—pun intended. He would eventually succumb to the grim world that he was rooted to. But if he didn't fight, he'd never be satisfied in his final moments. Maybe it was just the effects of being left to his thoughts for so long, but he was sure of the fact that he wanted to be happy in the end. He had never had the chance to be happy, and here he was, just giving up, and _not trying_. It was sickening. So he had to keep walking, to drag his feet from the holes in the ground that they had become stuck in, and _fight_. Every step he took was a punch thrown at an invisible enemy.

He would make it right. He would keep walking until he had run a path into the ground, until his feet legs had worn away; and even then, he'd crawl until his arms were gone. It was what he needed, and what he deserved.

Over the years, he had changed. At first he was just a vaguely humanoid shadow, nothing more than something you'd see with your peripheral vision. The world changed too. He was sure it wasn't the same place as where he had lived. The world of the dead, he had come to call it, but the wind whispered something else in his ears, a deadly sort of name for the place that he ruled in his loneliness. He saw other shadows, although they were of different forms and always glowing white instead of his inky obsidian black. The world he walked through was full of lower life that he held in the same respect as the ones of his intelligence. They were the plant life forms, the beautiful trees, the blooming flowers, the tasty fruit, the prickly bushes, and they made beauty a thing of reality in his bleak life. It made him smile. The white souls that approached him would always lower into a bow, offering their souls to quench a hunger burning inside of him. He took their kindness with gratefulness. He vowed to get stronger and to live longer—equivalent exchange, of course.

His favourite part of the world was the field of cherry blossom trees that went on for miles, impossibly majestic. There were mountains and fields, and rivers, and lakes. There were lush forests, but no animals to make it a habitat. But it was _his_ habitat. For years, it could have been thousands, he didn't know, he lingered in the haven that he had started calling home, letting the souls give themselves to him, and storing their energy inside of him in return. When the day came that he had enough, he would evolve into something that could get stronger. And the debts that he owed the souls would be paid.

A new soul had just been absorbed when he had felt a shift inside of the murky darkness that was his entire self. He knew it was time. A black light enveloped him and squeezed him tightly, like a bandage wrapping around him. He roared with strength as he felt his body change. After the light had finished wrapping and puncturing him, he felt himself twist and turn, with a weird popping noise making him aware that something solid was forming. He would become the first creature in the world he was occupying.

With a terrible yet satisfying screech, he had formed into the first of what the future generations would call a _hollow_. He grinned with enthusiasm. This was great.

His body was about the size of an apartment building, with his mask a terrifying sight. His mask looked much like a cat's skull, with long canine teeth, and menacing pure gold eyes staring out through the slits. A mane of golden locks flowed from around the skull-like mask, with two caramel-gold cat ears poking out from the fur. The rest of his body was still very much like a lion, but also more like a lizard. His skin was a scaly dark green, with flowing sinewy muscles underneath. His long legs ended with huge clawed feet, and his long tail that could touch his mask had the head of a snake hissing menacingly at the surrounding area. His forked tongue peeked from the mask that covered his face. He was impressive and would have scared anybody to death who dared to earn his wrath.

He trained until he learned of what he could do in that form, and for thousands of years continued to gain strength. His form slowly changed. He grew smaller, knowing that it was not a decrease in strength, but showing his control. As more souls started to convert, he watched the world that he had come to love turn into a desert, with nothing to make it beautiful. The colours faded to a dark sky and a sandy brown. He hated the world that somehow had swallowed his old one. This was not the world of the dead anymore. This was Hueco Mundo now. He missed his old kingdom. He slowly drew away from the other souls, letting their instincts overtake them. He drew away to the farthest he could get from them, right to the edge of Hueco Mundo. He trained there, absorbed too much to notice the carnage, the creatures that were rampaging.

He soon changed shape again, this time with a stunning golden light. But he lost himself to darkness. The pit swallowed him up, leaving him unable to climb back out. The world had finally caught up with him, and he succumbed to the eternal slumber that he had been trying to run away from. He was so exhausted from the training, from his world changing so much, from he himself changing so much.

While he was sleeping, many things changed. The original hollows evolved into the first Menos Grandes, and then a select few became Vasto Lords. The world shifted in and out of focus, and Soul Society formed not too long after. The castle-like fortress formed in Hueco Mundo, and the hollows slowly got stronger, but couldn't come close to where he was in strength. Stories of a hollow of all hollows, _the_ hollow of all hollows, were lost to the desert. He slowly became forgotten, nothing more than a buried body without a tombstone to mark its existence.

Thousands of years passed, and rulers over Hueco Mundo changed from time to time, while the Seireitei dwellers grew in power and number. It was many centuries before a man by the name of Sosuke Aizen came to rule over Hueco Mundo. He was the ruler in secret, while keeping the façade of a nice Captain in the Soul Society. He felt himself stir as the events unravelled, as new spiritual pressures made an impact in the spiritual world. He felt the other dimension—Soul Society—gain power, and he felt the shifts in the world as it changed. He felt the human world develop into a technologically savvy place, leaving his world in the dust.

And then he felt a big spiritual pressure suddenly condense, with others slowly coming into existence after a while. It was a change in the system—a flaw—that had allowed it to occur. So his Zanpakutou—a part of him that he had not communicated with since his sleep induced demise—sought to wake him from his sleeping stupor. After sleeping for so long, it was easy for his Soul Cutter to slip him into his own inner world, seeking to make him realise what he had to realise.

And so it began... the story of the first spiritually connected soul; the first hollow to grace the land; the first ruler over Hueco Mundo; the first to have become a solid being; and the first to awaken from a hibernating state that nobody else knew of. It was his time. His Zanpakutou knew him better than anybody else—as he _was_ him.

A shockwave resounded through the entire world of Hueco Mundo, scaring even the most demonic of hollows to their cores.

He was back.

And nobody could get in his way.

Okay. Hope you liked that. I love reviews. Seriously, review, even if you have nothing to say but "Please update soon!" Although, I'd appreciate you saying a little bit more than that... like "I loved it so much!"

The other chapters will definitely be longer than this prologue!

Even if you don't want to review, please put this on your story alerts!


	2. A Gold and White Clad King

I hope that you know enough about Bleach to not ask a bunch of questions about the meanings of words. But I'll answer any questions too. I am basing this on the manga version of both Bleach and FMA. So if you get confused, just ask me some questions about it. I don't think Bleach has many differences in the anime and manga, so that should be good.

**[EDIT: I've gotten some feedback, and all of Edward's attacks are going to be in English/Amestrian. It'll be in italics, and then repeated without italics to show that he spoke in Amestrian, and then English. Just like how they speak in Japanese and then English or combo of both. i.e. _Attack! _Attack!]**

I don't own anything. You know the drill.

He opened his eyes, aware of the fact that he was still sleeping. He wondered vaguely if he was going crazy from the eternal slumber. He sat up, his body stiff from not moving for thousands of years. He was aware that his form had changed back to that of a human, for he examined himself first. His skin was a smooth and silky cream colour, and long golden locks fell past his shoulders. He was absolutely sure that his eyes were the same deep gold pools as when he was alive. His eyes were mature, although they were not like that from living so long. His body was clothed in white. His pants were roughly the same as when he was alive, as was his shirt, although it was a lot more formal. They were a thin silky fabric that felt cool against his newfound skin. A big smile lit up his face, as he found he had all four limbs, as per usual. He had a pure white trench coat on, with the Flamel insignia on the back, inked into the fabric. His shoes were black boots.

He slowly staggered to his feet, unused to being in such a form. He looked around, not entirely absorbed in his new form anymore. He was in a vast space of pure nothing, with whiteness all he could see. He looked down at his feet, staring with confusion at a drawing of the gate that looked like somebody had drawn it in chalk. His eyes widened in surprise, he was sure that this was some sick joke. Why was his inner self's world that of the gate? It scared him. He felt fear clutch at his mind, an emotion he hadn't felt since he had died.

He spun around, startled by the footsteps that were echoing through the white world.

A man dressed exactly like him stared solemnly at him. His obsidian black hair fell to his shoulders, straight and inky. His bangs were cut neatly, slanting to the right, and gold eyes peered at him. His skin was pale, with a gigantic sword strapped to his back. They stared at each other solemnly, each observing the other carefully.

"Edward-san," the man sighed, "I am glad that you have not gotten lost to your slumber." The man was roughly in his late twenties, while Edward himself still looked the same as when he had died, at age nineteen. His body was still short, and he was monumentally glad that the other man wasn't much better. "But," he carried on with a tired sigh, "you are not doing anything worthwhile when you're sleeping like a dead man."

Edward grinned a bit sheepishly. "You can't blame me for feeling a bit tired." He closed his eyes, his face becoming calm. "What can I do to get back to the real world again?"

The man smiled. "It's simple," he reasoned with the alchemist, "just wake up."

He rolled his eyes at his Zanpakutou, frowning. Edward's eyebrows pulled together, and his eyes narrowed, making his face a scowl. He knew _that_ already. He wanted the method. He had a feeling that he was not going to like the snarky Zanpakutou that was uncannily like him. Edward continued to scowl.

"I think I know that already, dumbass." It was his Zanpakutou's turn to scowl.

"Shut up, you fleabag."

"WHO YOU CALLIN' SHORT?" it escaped his mouth before he had any chance to stop it. He grinned, laughing at the fact that it was just like old times. He wanted to jump up and start dancing. But it wouldn't be bad ass, so he decided not to do that. He looked around for a while, and seeing that there was nothing to do but talk to the annoying Zanpakutou, he turned back.

"So what's your name, asshole?" Edward growled out, obviously annoyed.

"Well, it's (mute)." Edward stared blankly when he heard nothing. His Zanpakutou sighed.

"It seems like you still can't hear my name, you fool."

"What do you mean?" Edward asked curiously.

"All Zanpakutou have names, just like how you yourself have one," he rolled his eyes at him before signalling him to continue, "and you have to earn the right to learn my name. Looks like you haven't earned it yet. Wake up already, Edward-san."

Edward focused on his reasons; his reasons for keeping a steady head, for training to become stronger. He would never improve if he just slept for eternity. He had to live for Al, for Winry, for his mother. They were all so special to him, and he had no idea if they were even alive. He felt something wet slide down his cheek. Great, now he was _crying_. But he didn't bother to wipe it away. His Zanpakutou started walking towards him, eyes sparkling with some sort of unidentified emotion. Edward watched as he walked straight through him, leaving a warm heated feeling inside of him. He felt his body being pulled to the living world, and a happy sort of emotion coursed through his veins.

"Wake up, Edward-san, and maybe I'll tell you my name."

The words he wanted to speak were lost as he felt himself fly out of his mindscape. "Thank you." He spoke anyways, knowing that he'd still be heard.

He opened his eyes to a foreign place. A crater the size of Central City—back home—surrounded him on all sides. With a start, he realised that he was in the center of the crater. He blinked rapidly. Had he created it? He scowled. Great, he had attracted too much attention. He got out of the scorched rubble, and started walking. But, remembering his time as a hollow, tried using a Sonido. He remembered something about how to do it, and was surprised when he flashed fifty feet in front of him with a step and a loud boom.

The boom was annoying, but he supposed he could live with it until he found a way to silence it. He felt a weight on his back and reached behind him. A sword just as tall as him rested there. It was a foot wide, and five foot five tall. He figured that his Zanpakutou's form was just to taunt how short he was. He had grown barely an inch taller than Winry, and was severely pissed that he had died before he could grow anymore.

"Oh, wow. This is just _great_." He rolled his eyes and started flash-stepping away from the middle of the crater. He recognised the desert as Hueco Mundo. He was still in the same place as when he was the ruler. It was a small idea, but he wondered if he could get a hollow to speak to him. He knew of the two different worlds he could get to, besides Hueco Mundo.

His hair, totally loose, was starting to annoy him. He stopped, weaving it into a braid, and focused on wrapping the bottom of it with his reiatsu. It worked, keeping the braid nice and out of the way. He couldn't keep his unruly bangs out of his face, but he was used to it being like that.

He started using Sonido again, his speed gaining with each one. After a day of non-stop traveling, he had become so fast that he was barely a blur. His endurance was amazing, for he was going at full speed and had only just started to tire. He grinned; burning off the energy that he had stored was fun, even if it would take a hundred years of battling at his fullest for 24/7 to burn it completely. It was surprising that after only three days of travel he had encountered a hollow. It had collapsed to the ground in grief after seeing him, thinking that it would surely be slaughtered, but chatted to him amiably after finding out he was safe.

He had learned many things, like how he wasn't the only arrancar anymore, and how their ruler was going to make them stronger. He was yet to acquire the secret to making them into perfect arrancars, but he was about to do it soon.

Edward didn't trust that someone was that kind. It was just trouble waiting to happen. He had thanked the hollow and started off with another boom from his Sonido. He glanced at his clothing, and grasped his mask from its folds. It was like his first form's mask, but stark white instead of a creamy yellow. The mouth protruded outwards in a short muzzle. Long canine teeth on its upper jaw reached down to the bottom of the mask, and the lower canines touched the tips of his other teeth. They were about an inch tall each, with one side serrated.

It looked just like a big lion's skull, and the holes for his eyes were one and a half centimetres at the tallest point, while it was shaped like a sunflower seed.

He slipped it on, knowing that it was better to blend in than to attract attention. He was a genius after all.

He frowned behind the white mask. He could feel his reiatsu swirling around him. He reached out with his senses, grasping the edges of his spiritual pressure, and pulling it back inside him. There. Now they couldn't sense his reiatsu. It would be trouble if he started attracting hollows. His reiatsu was very much like the earth. It was an old force that nobody had the strength to stand up to, but also attracted creatures to him. The earth was where they came from, and it made them feel a connection to its radiating power. It was much like Alkahestry, something he had learned the method of before he had died. Of course, the gate having disappeared from within him before he had died, he was sure that he couldn't use it.

He smiled at the memories he had of alchemy, the one thing that he had never stopped loving, besides his family and friends. He had always had a deep passion for it, and desperately wanted to be able to use it again. But he had given up hope long ago.

He subconsciously reached over his shoulder to grasp the hilt of his sword. His Zanpakutou was wrapped in a blood red cloth, and it made him curious as to what was underneath it.

_**Edward-san, you need to train.**_

_Yeah, like I don't know that already. Was it your idea to make my Zanpakutou that big?_

_**I **_**am**_** your Zanpakutou, baka-san. And no, that's just the way it turned out.**_

Edward refused to reply after that, his stubborn personality coming through. He rolled his eyes at the sword, subconsciously sending a glare behind him. The wind whipped his clothes and hair, his body speeding past it with ease. Traveling for so long was starting to bore him to death, and he knew that his Zanpakutou was right. He was strong, but he had a new form now, and needed to know how to use it.

He slowed to a halt, blinking rapidly as he came upon a large gathering of hollows feasting on a slaughtered Menos Grande. He felt himself wither at the sight of one of the originals dead. He filled with sorrow at the thoughts that came to mind. He remembered the fields and the rivers, the plant life, the souls, and he remembered the kindness that the souls had presented to him. He had become who he was at the moment because of those original souls, and he had a sort of attachment to the original hollows. His gaze slid over the hollows, sizing them up. They were nothing special, and had obviously just come across the carcass by accident.

He reached behind his head to grasp the sword that held his strength inside. His grip tightened, and it slid from the wrappings with ease. The wrappings shrunk to about a foot long, attached to the pommel of his Zanpakutou, like decorative string. The blade's colour was liquid silver, and it looked like something you'd use to execute somebody. The point was a cross between diamond and angled (like a katana), and the blade had what you'd call a riser, a raised center line that improved rigidity in the sword, one on each side. It was double-edged, and the hilt was wrapped in the same red fabric that was hanging from the pommel. The Flamel insignia was engraved on each side of the blade. The insignia was faintly glowing gold on one side, and blue on the other. The blade was a full foot wide, and the same height as him, including the hilt. It wasn't heavy, because it was made of his own reiatsu, and he knew the power of his own reiatsu was not acting against him.

He twirled the blade around, testing it out. Using his reiatsu manipulating abilities, he reached inside and brought out some reiatsu. It slowly leaked out, dripping onto the blade like water. The light that his Zanpakutou gave off grew brighter for a few seconds, before absorbing the energy and ceasing to glow afterwards. He smiled at his Zanpakutou, waving it around and going through some Zanjutsu exercises, like thrusting, and parrying. He was satisfied after a couple of minutes.

He turned to where the hollows were feasting, glaring at the vast number of them. There were at least twenty or more hollows, and more would arrive after sensing the commotion. With a faint boom, he rocketed into the mass of writhing hollows.

He launched himself upwards with a burst of reiatsu, and descended on a hollow nearby, stabbing his Zanpakutou through its mask easily. The hollow crumbled into gold dust, something that Edward wasn't sure about. It went against his ideals of equivalent exchange, but then again, so did the rest of the world. The law of conservation of mass had also been disrupted as well. He whipped around, and with another quick Sonido had two more down.

He dodged around the monsters, each one falling to either his left or right, smashing into gold dust that drifted down like snow. It mixed with the sand, making the area sparkle. It seemed unnaturally pristine, like they belonged back into the earth, and he was restoring the natural order of things. They seemed almost hesitant to stand up to him, the knowledge of him being the first of their kind ingrained into their souls. He was the king of all of Hueco Mundo, clad in gold and white, leaving behind beauty with each death. Soon all that was left in the surrounding area was him, the gold dust, and the Menos Grande that he considered a sort of son, or even brother. They had been created in his image, and he couldn't forgive himself for not protecting them. He supposed that maybe in his absence they had strayed from who they were before he had fallen into hibernation, and they could not help but slaughter them, but it still made him angry.

He walked slowly to the dead carcass. He brought a hand up to brush against the side of its fragmented and bloody mask. The humongous Menos Grande was a lot like him before he had started changing form. It was too big to measure, about the size of a small mountain, with a pure white mask. A long nose-like protrusion had broken off from the mask. The body slowly glowed, as piece by piece it dissolved into nothing but gold dust. Edward brought his hand up to his face, wiping away a tear that he hadn't been aware of before. The dust in the sand started glowing.

He turned around, glancing around in wonder at the golden dust circling him. They slowly turned into a tornado of gold chips, swirling around him at a rapid speed. With a bright burst of golden light, they were gone, and he felt a burst of reiatsu inside of him.

_Am I worthy yet?_ He questioned both himself and his Zanpakutou.

_**You are the one who cannot hear my name. It is not whether **_**I**_** think you're worthy, it is whether **_**you**_** think you're worthy, Edward-san.**_

_Well, I don't know what to think anymore. I'm upset, alright?_

He could almost feel the smile that his Zanpakutou was performing.

_**My name... is Shinjitsu no ō.**_

Edward's eyes widened, lit up with disbelief. Out of all the names in the world, his just _had_ to mean "the king of truth". Fate had a habit of teasing him with little jokes, and this was just another one that he had not been expecting. His Zanpakutou was powerful, yes, and the name meant many things, yes, but he was unsure of his ability to wield such a monstrously powerful sword. He stood still, closing his eyes to focus. He pulled his reiatsu back inside, making sure that he was just another grain of sand to anybody that was inspecting their surroundings. He opened his eyes again, sheathing his sword in the red bandage-like fabric.

A smile graced his features. The Menos Grande wasn't dead anymore. It would live on in him, as would the rest of the pitiful souls that were labelled as hollows. Maybe he was just a pompous bigot, but he felt deep inside, it was his duty to be rid of the malicious creatures that used to be normal. Hollows were not even hollows anymore. Because he had turned away and neglected them, they had lost themselves to grief. It was, as were most tragedies in life, his fault. _It seems like it's the same even in the afterlife,_ he thought with a scowl.

"Help me become stronger, Shinjitsu no ō. I can't save them without you."

_**I **_**am**_** you. The strength in me resides in you as well. I can't become stronger without you, either. So the more you understand me, the more you understand your power, and you, yourself too.**_

_Well, then I guess I need to get to know you better, huh?_

"What's your favourite colour?" he asked aloud to the wind, a grin underneath his lion mask.

_**Red... it's badass, you know.**_

"Thank you for telling me your name. It's nice to know the name of my newest partner in crime." He replied with another grin, baring his pearly white teeth at nothing in particular.

_**Thank you for being worthy enough to hear it.**_

There! The second chapter of Shinjitsu no ō is done! It's over three thousand words long and six pages too. That took quite a while to write. I was stuck with this chapter a little bit, but it turned out good enough to post. Please review! I absolutely love them. Thank you to the one reviewer for my first chapter, and the other who added my story to his/her favourite stories list.

I really appreciate it!


	3. Brain Matter

Oh my god, I'm so sorry for the wait! I've been busy all week, but that's no excuse. I was a bit stuck on this for a while, but it's all good now. Please consider answering the questions in the Author's note at the bottom of this chapter in a review! I love reviews... they make me warm and fuzzy.

**[EDIT: I've gotten some feedback, and all of Edward's attacks are going to be in English/Amestrian. It'll be in italics, and then repeated without italics to show that he spoke in Amestrian, and then English. Just like how they speak in Japanese and then English or combo of both. i.e. _Attack! _Attack!]**

I do not own anything.

...

She wanted to tear the world apart. Or, more specifically, she wanted to tear Ichigo's stupid face off. He had risked everything that she had tried to save _just_ because his ego was too big to let her die. Sentenced to death, she had accepted it with open arms, painfully aware of the fact that if she struggled, she would put shame on her family, and quite possibly injure her friends as well. It could be those reasons, but she deeply relied on the fact that maybe, just maybe, they'd escape alright. In Renji's arms, Kuchiki Rukia was feeling both nauseous with worry, and sick with regret. _She _was alright, but what about the ones that had followed her with reckless abandonment and selfishly egotistical mind frames? She couldn't stand it. She wouldn't stand it. But nonetheless, she knew with a certain detached train of thought that they'd never give up, so she fell silent in his arms, the only sound her ragged breath and Renji's.

He glanced at the feisty shinigami in worry. She had been kicking and screaming for a while, but now she was silent and deep in thought. His childhood friend had always meant a lot to him, as he had come from a place where every friend you had was a truckload of gold coins, something to treasure. She left him confused, his personal friendship with her, or his duty as a shinigami of the Gotei 13? He felt his eyebrow twitch in annoyance at his thoughts, and how the damn woman kept interrupting his so-called "peace".

"Rukia... it'll be okay. Kurosaki is strong. He is far beyond when you last saw him. Have faith." Renji whispered; the mumble barely audible. A small smile lit up her face, the deep caring that was seeping out of his voice was making her remember that she wasn't alone. It was a thought that made her grateful of his presence. She was not a cry baby by anybody's standards, but she wanted to start bawling. The pent up emotions inside her were making her soft, she concluded.

"I-I know, Renji-san. Thank you." She whispered back, equally as quiet as the stoic yet un-composed shinigami that held her fragile form. He simply nodded in return, turning back to keep running. His eyes widened in shock as a man blocked his path. It couldn't be. It was impossible.

Aizen stepped towards them, the serene face he had on conflicting with the situation. She stiffened in his grasp, having heard a couple stories of the Captain's death. She looked on with a sort of inhuman detachment as the events unfolded before her eyes, even when Ichigo arrived. So that was why her body had not gained anything back in the time she had spent in the human world. She felt a rush of anger, and then happiness as Aizen explained it further. Urahara had entrusted a deep and dark object to her. But she was failing him right now.

She was sickened with the thoughts flitting through her mind.

She was sickened when he had grasped her body and forcefully removed the Hougyoku from within it.

She was trash for letting him take it. She was trash for not being able to protect her friends. She was trash for letting Urahara down.

_I will take death, and with it, I shall atone for my sins._

She sensed that she was suddenly not alone anymore. There were many shinigami there. She knew some personally, and others were only vaguely familiar. But she was so touched that they had all come to protect her from the menacing threat she was located by. She was scared, it was true. But now that she was sure that they could save her, she was braver.

...

He was at a crossroad. Either he could search throughout Hueco Mundo, kill off the hollows, and thus cleanse the dimension, or he could put all the effort into trying to re-establish their lost humanity. The problem was... there was really no choice for him. The thought of killing when it was unnecessary was preposterous, and he did not think he could stand even thinking about it. He understood the miracle of life, and the idea of destroying the miracle of life _after_ death was saddening to his entire being. He could not allow himself to do that.

It would take all of his efforts to return hollows to their former glory, but it was worth it. He wanted to be able to feel the smiles that they were projecting into their reiatsu; he wanted them to be able to do that for themselves as well. Smiles, no matter how they appeared, made him forget his problems. Al's smiles used to do that too. Maybe that was why. It was a complex that had started with his brother, and had spread to everything now that he could no longer communicate with him.

Edward was an angry kind of man. He knew that. The things he had done and witnessed had made him like that. But he loved to see happiness. It was his guilty pleasure. He was not sure why he felt guilty about it, but he did. Maybe it was the fact that he was unworthy, and that was ingrained into his very soul. He would smile at others when he was happy, but he always felt that it was neither right nor _his_ right. That dull anger that had slowly become who he was as a person could be fought off by seeing the happiness in other people and feeling it for himself. He hated that he could feel happy, but it was the truth. The truth seemed to be an ironic kind of thing, in many ways. Truth was supposed to shed light on things, but all he saw when truth came to mind was a gate with darkness clawing at him and everyone he cared about. Yes, "God" was not kind. But he was what he was for a reason, and Edward knew that.

He did not deserve happiness. It was as simple as that. But he had gotten second chances—and third chances, and fourth chances—so why could he stand there and not offer those privileges to those that were like him? He was just another monster that had gotten lost in a sea of humanity. So why should he not offer help to monsters that had gotten lost in a sea of bigger monsters? It was not right to just stand there and watch them drown. He had had help swim to the shore. So what about them? _What about them? WHAT ABOUT THEM, GOD DAMN IT? __**WHAT ABOUT THEM?**_

He had to help them. There wasn't another choice.

The desert of eternal white greeted him when he opened his eyes. He had calmed down after a couple minutes of deep breathing. It killed him to have thoughts like those running through his head all the time, but he dealt with them by remembering other people and their pain. He remembered how his pain was not half as bad as theirs. Maybe that was his saving grace. Or maybe he liked to believe that to make an excuse for not being so miserable. He didn't even know whether his thoughts were making sense anymore, but he continued to think, just to spite himself.

The endless night—oh, how he missed the daylight; the _daylight_, damnit—kept him in shadows, those suffocating dark _things_. It scared him. He wished the world could go back to how it was before, when everything was serenely beautiful, and the only thing that he considered bleak was the fact that nothing ever happened. But now there were just white sand, crystalline trees, and the immortal night. Monsters roamed the wilderness of bleakness, and he himself was one of those, in a sense.

He continued to Sonido across Hueco Mundo, annoyed at the fact that nothing seemed to be happening. He was itching for a fight, and not the pansy ones that had him killing off the opponent with a single strike, he wanted one that left him soaked in his own gore—just to know that he was indeed, a creature of the living (well, dead).

He stopped dead in his tracks, causing him to skid. The white sand sprayed all around him as he tried to steady himself. He felt a pressure in his mind, like somebody was poking his brain with a rough finger or stick. It got worse as each second passed until it turned into a sharp pain in his forehead. It throbbed through his entire being, like a sound wave coursing through him. His vision suddenly narrowed, and he saw through a blurry lens. It appeared like he was looking up from the bottom on a well, with a dark circle all around and the images only appearing in the center of it. He groaned in pain as he became dizzy. Edward tried to fight back against it, his senses overcome with a strong urge to go to sleep. But he continued to fight it off. Eventually, with neither side giving in, he slipped in an unconscious state with a rather forceful tug on his mind.

...

Edward groaned as he opened his eyes, glaring at his inner world. The same ivory whiteness glared back at him, with that same huge gate drawn in red and black chalk on the floor there to greet him. He tried rubbing the chalk off, but it stayed there. His annoying Zanpakutou was standing in front of him with one of those stupid condescending expressions littering his face. Edward glared back defiantly, slowly getting to his feet. His mind was still throbbing slightly. His Zanpakutou, which he'd just call Shinjitsu—or Truth—for now, started to get annoyed at the man's hostile expression.

"Well, what do you want?" Edward sighed, his expression calming down slightly.

Shinjitsu sighed, looking at him in boredom. "Well, I figured that we should train a little. You can't go around un-corrupting the corrupted when all you can do is swing around your sword a little. I mean really. Did you actually think that that's all it takes?"

Edward rolled his eyes in return. "Of course I know that. But I'd rather kick ass now, and worry about training later. So what moves do you have up your sleeves?"

Shinjitsu rolled his eyes in response.

"You should be asking that to yourself."

"I thought that you _are_ me."

"Oh shut up. You know it is la verdad (the truth), stupid." Edward rolled his eyes yet again, sensing that it was starting to become a habit. Now his stupid Zanpakutou was going around speaking Spanish. He must have found an English to Spanish dictionary in his mindscape.

"So, how am I going to get better at fighting?"

Shinjitsu sighed. "La lucha contra resuelve ningún problema, pero lo hacemos para seguir adelante."

"'Fighting solves no problems, but we do it to proceed.'" Edward quoted it back to him. A grin spread across his face. "Then we must proceed, eh?"

"Yes, Edward-san." Shinjitsu smiled back at him. The black haired embodiment of his Zanpakutou had a sort of serenity when he smiled; the kind that shone through his eyes and spread a calm aura through the air that carried to all those that witnessed it. Edward had the stubborn determination that could fight it off, but he accepted the peaceful aura easily.

"So... what do I have to do?" Edward was sincerely curious, something that he figured he'd always be. He was a scientist at heart—all alchemists were—and curiosity came with the occupation. Edward liked to improve. It was a given fact that he did. He wanted to learn more about how to wield and effectively use his Zanpakutou. He needed to be stronger, faster, smarter—although his own intellect would be hard to surpass—and powerful.

Shinjitsu was silent, pondering the question slowly. It was like savouring a hard candy. He ran it around in his mouth, rubbing his tongue over its surface, and only after coming to a complete understanding of the whole thing did he answer the question.

"Well, we're going to be reviewing some notes." Shinjitsu turned, gesturing to a massive bookshelf which had appeared behind Edward when he had been talking to his Zanpakutou. The bookshelf was easily two stories high and three or four meters wide. A bunch of what he recognised as his research journals filled up the shelves. He was sure, without a doubt, that he had not filled up _that many journals_. His eyes widened in surprise. The golden pools observed the massive bookshelf in something akin to awe.

"Are those my research notes?"

Shinjitsu nodded; his black hair shifting as he performed the action. Edward groaned in annoyance.

"You liar."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I have no idea what you mean."

"I have never filled out that many journals. Those are not mine."

"Oh. Well, these are journals that your mind subconsciously acquired. You may have not had the materials or were too lazy to write it down, but your mind stored the information away in these." He gestured at the bookshelf. "So, yes, some are empty and have yet to be filled, but those are on the top with the blue binding. The rest are for you to reacquaint yourself with. Go ahead. I'll be here if you need me."

Edward growled, glaring at the shelf. Well, he might as well hurry it up. It would take at least a week for him to get through all of them. He had to decode his own thoughts, of course. He hadn't used the code for thousands of years, and as such, was a bit rusty.

He slowly walked up to the journals, trepidation evident in his demeanour. What would his subconscious reveal? He ran his fingers along the books, stopping where a golden one marked the first journal. He gracefully plucked it from the bookshelf and sat on the floor, leaning against the shelf. He flipped open to the first page, scanning the text diligently. As the words flowed through his mind, he could almost hear the gears turning. Images flooded his brain as he relived the events and facts that had been recorded in his subconscious.

The first thing that he found he was drawn to was the fact that in his world, it had been advanced, but in the world that he had arrived in, it was just the beginning of life. Things had yet to come into fruition, so why had there been humanoid souls when he had arrived? This led him to start wondering why he had been brought to this world in the first place. If it was indeed something that happened when you died, why had he not encountered his friends and family when he had first arrived? But his death had been suspicious anyways. He had been shot up by the military during an operation where some of the soldiers had gone nuts and started shooting each other. He had arrived at the Gate, but had simply been pushed into the solid gate in front of him. With a rush of alchemical power, he had felt like he could use alchemy again, but had arrived in another dimension, clearly dead.

Those facts and questions led him to theorise that—because when he had died it had involved alchemy—he had been pushed through the Gate and into this dimension. It made perfect sense. Humans had not yet formed when he had arrived in this dimension, so the souls had to be alchemists or people that had died with alchemy involved. The Gate had taken their souls because anything alchemical was rightly its property, and had distributed them throughout the new dimension. He also seemed to wonder about the time difference in each dimension. Back where he was from, when one year passed, it probably amounted to thousands of years in this world. And given his theory for that, he could have been given back his inner Gate by passing through it. That was why he had felt alchemy running through his veins.

By the time he had solidly declared that as his theory, he had gone through thirteen of the books. That, of course, meant that he had spent at least a day going through them. It was probably closer to two days, as his code was difficult, even for one who knew it so well, and his own thoughts were just as complex. He wasn't nearly as good at understanding himself as he was at understanding alchemy.

"Oh god, that was harsh. Who knew that I could be so hard to understand?" Edward looked up in surprise as a bark of laughter coming from Shinjitsu drifted to his ears.

"Have you figured something out yet?"

"Yes, oh god, yes." And with that, Edward launched into an animated explanation of what he had hypothesised. At the end, Shinjitsu had just nodded briefly and muttered something about 'figuring it out sooner than I did'.

"Well, I guess that means that you can figure out what our main powers are." Shinjitsu sighed, wearily lying down on the ground.

"It's alchemy, right?"

"Correct."

Edward mentally did a happy dance, excited at the prospect of being able to do something that he had been cut off from. It was the one thing that he unconditionally loved, and he gave it up for the other thing that he unconditionally loved. The art of alchemy was something that one just did not let go of. If you knew what it meant to be an alchemist, the pride it gave to know a subject as complex as alchemy inside out, you would sympathize with Edward's plight. But gaining it back was a dream he had driven away with the knowledge of how hopeless it was, only to have it come true when he least expected it.

"Well, I need a proper name to channel it, right? All the other powers have names. What do I call my newly found alchemy?" Edward asked, excitement bubbling in his golden eyes.

"Ah, I knew you were going to ask that right away." Shinjitsu smiled. "Shinjitsu wa kyoujyaku nari, Truth is Strength."

"What truthful names you inspire, Shinjitsu."

"Truthful... indeed."

...

Wow! That was amazing! I finally finished this chapter. It was a real drag. I got off okay at the beginning, although I found it boring, it was okay towards the center, but I had a rough patch in the center and end, because it was very much deciding towards the plot.

Woo! Now I have given you an explanation as to why Edward is in this universe/dimension. He will encounter somebody from his past, I think, or more than one person. I have some questions I want you guys to answer!

I will be bringing Winry into this story, but have some insecurities about how she will be.

Question One: What kind of strength will Winry be categorised into?

A: Powerful

B: Weak

C: No Powers

D: Another option?

Question Two: What kind of creature will Winry be?

A: An Immortal Human That Ends Up In Karakura Town

B: A Hollow

C: A Shinigami

D: A Soul in Rukongai

Question Three: What will Edward and Winry's relationship be?

A: Openly Being Intimate (i.e. kissing/hugging/touching [not too perverted])

B: Just Writing about Their Feelings (no intimate scenes being written)

C: No Relationship Altogether (if you choose this one, give me a reasonable excuse, for I love Edward-Winry)

Question Four: If Winry has powers, what kind will she have?

A: Offensive (like most Zanpakutou)

B: Defensive (protecting Edward for example)

C: Healing (like being able to re-grow limbs)

D: Aura (i.e. sensing somebody's time of death, or sensing feelings/controlling them)

Again, I'm really sorry for the wait! I was so busy!


	4. Make It Stop, Stop, Stop

Guess what? I know I should rant on and on about how I'm bad at getting updates out and all, but I'm going to apologise first, then go on about some news. First of all—I'm sorry. I've been really busy, I'm the wicked witch in a play, I had to write an essay on grammar and vocabulary, I just went out getting money for a Gumboot rally yesterday (I still managed to write a little too), I work on the set for the play, I have practices at least two times a week, I have doing the set usually two times a week, I am learning two new songs for the music class band that's ahead of my grade, and a lot of other stuff. It's a miracle that I don't break down and cry sometimes. So give me a slight break. I also get writer's block easily.

My good news is that this story is nominated for the Goldworth Awards, in Best After Story. The link is: fmagoldworthaward(dot)wordpress(dot)com. So please go and vote. It's run by Summer, a great author here on fanfiction, and I hope you go and read some of the stories that are nominated for the different categories. It's all FMA too. So I'm really happy.

Another thing, for any Naruto fans reading this, I am going to start writing a series of one-shots with mostly Sakura-centric pairings in them. If you'd like to see a pairing, please vote on my profile. If there's another pairing that you'd like, but it isn't there, just PM me. Sorry for the long author's note.

**[EDIT: I've gotten some feedback, and all of Edward's attacks are going to be in English/Amestrian. It'll be in italics, and then repeated without italics to show that he spoke in Amestrian, and then English. Just like how they speak in Japanese and then English or combo of both. i.e. _Attack! _Attack!]**

I don't own anything.

"I can tell just what you know—but it's not enough. For you, you need immaculate knowledge, it is your calling. You fight to know just what is going on—to know how to help. It's who you are, and in essence, who _I_ am. It makes up the person standing before me. But you're full of layers, each one complex, and nobody but you can understand what each of them represents." Pause. Deep breath... Continue.

"So... get stronger. Learn. Fight for what you've been centered on, and maybe you'll strip off those layers, and see who you are... see what's left in the end. Get ready,_ Mr. Al-che-mist_... because I'm going to come at you, and you're going to battle me. Come one, come all, every strike counts. Just be prepared. I'm aiming for your death."

Edward nodded. His pure liquid gold eyes had a fierce determination blazing. He looked at the Zanpakutou straight in the eye, no fear shining through his unbeatable armour. He slid into a stance, all predatory, not a hint of uncertainty in his movements. He didn't break the battle between their gazes, his eyes never moving from the eyes of Shinjitsu. The alchemist boy—no, he was a man now—reached behind his shoulder, grasping his sword in slender hands. He pulled it out in front of him, the blood red cloth around it shrinking to about a foot long, attached to the pommel. Gold eyes stared at it in something akin to awe, still not understanding the beauty of the weapon before him.

Shinjitsu smirked, drawing out the exact replica of Edward's sword, the wrappings a silky gold instead. Edward held it in front of him, his eyes scanning the sword to make sure that he knew it inside out.

The two stared each other down, gold versus gold, sword versus sword. Edward chuckled, a sinister sort of laughter. "Well, then... ready?"

"This is a battle," Shinjitsu disappeared and reappeared behind Edward, "so would you ask that in a real battle?" Edward glanced behind him, where the voice was coming from. He flipped his sword around and thrust backwards, only for Shinjitsu to block the jab.

"Hell fucking yes!" Edward replied with a gleeful snarl. The thrill of battle was bubbling up inside of him, and it had only just begun. He whipped around as Shinjitsu went offensive, dodging and parrying against his barrage of attacks. Each blow sent tremors up his arm from the sheer strength of his Zanpakutou.

Shinjitsu frowned, noticing that he was getting nowhere... fast. He sent reiatsu into his arm and blade, fortifying them and increasing the overall strength. Edward was quick to realise this, but before he could pump reiatsu into his arm and sword, Shinjitsu had attacked. Edward watched in a sort of detached slow motion as he brought his blade up to block, but he was overpowered by the reiatsu enhanced Zanpakutou, and the shockwave sent him flying backwards. Shinjitsu—he knew that Edward had not been defeated by the strike—leaped after him with a burst of reiatsu.

Edward reached inside of himself, pulling out reiatsu, and coated his body with the thick spiritual energy. A fiery gold colour surrounded him as he flew away from Shinjitsu. He felt his eyes widen as Shinjitsu jumped after him with a smirk. He brought his golden fire coated sword up in front of him, blocking the blade that Shinjitsu wielded. Edward smirked in satisfaction, bringing the sword around to stop his fall. Shinjitsu was hovering just above him, observing the way Edward had amazingly pulled the insane amount of reiatsu out. It was incredible—Edward could control reiatsu better than a seasoned Captain of the Gotei 13. Edward stood still, basking in the golden flame-like reiatsu. It curled around him, licking and dancing an excited dance. Shinjitsu looked at the reiatsu in awe, wondering how he could be made of such a beautiful and deadly substance. A shape vaguely like a crown appeared in the reiatsu, just above Edward's head. Shinjitsu grinned cockily.

Edward jumped into the air, dashing on invisible platforms made out of reiatsu to get to Shinjitsu. He brought up his sword and lunged, feinted, and then jumped over Shinjitsu. Shinjitsu turned, just managing to block a reiatsu fortified lunge. Edward didn't manage to pull back in time to block Shinjitsu's fast lunge. He ducked to the side, the giant blade just barely missing his head. Instead of his head, it imbedded itself in Edward's right shoulder. It hadn't gone in too deep, due to Edward's reiatsu acting as a shield momentarily. Crimson blood welled out from where the blade was, covering—and staining—Edward's white clothing. Edward gasped in pain, but glared in defiance at the Zanpakutou in his shoulder.

Somehow, Shinjitsu just could not understand how Edward had performed it—he used both hands to grip his own sword and brought it around, slicing into Shinjitsu's stomach easily. Edward's shoulder had been damaged badly, major arteries had been nicked and sliced, tendons to his arm had been severed, yet he had continued with a cry of rage. Blood gushed out as Shinjitsu's sword came out of his shoulder with a squelch. Shinjitsu had barely managed to avoid all of the organs in his stomach being sliced in half by jumping backwards. But he had still been hit, and the blood rushing out of his abdomen was worrisome. He grinned in satisfaction at the blood around them. The battle was close, unfortunately.

"**_Truth is Strength!_ Truth is Strength!"**

Edward watched in awe as spikes—alchemical spikes—rose from the ground. They came at him with startling speed, and he was hard pressed to escape from their path. He jumped into the air, walking on it to dodge the spikes. Shinjitsu laughed heartily at the alchemist.

Edward glared back at him, bringing his sword up. **"_Truth is Strength!_ Truth is Strength!"** Edward called out the name of the attack, his mind conjuring up arrays that he had not used for many millennia.

The ground shook slightly as spikes jutted forward towards Shinjitsu. With a leap backwards, he dodged the onslaught, but Edward had anticipated it. A great big stone hand grabbed Shinjitsu from behind. A tingling sensation spread from the heart beating rapidly in his chest to his fingertips, like electricity flowing through his veins. Shinjitsu struggled, but smiled, pleased with Edward's relatively simple plan. It had not taken very much to think of it, and it had still worked. Edward knew that he didn't have to waste his energy doing complex assaults and traps when simple tactics could work marvellously and did. His heart raced with the feeling of alchemy traveling throughout his body, and the equations left a buzzing feeling in his mind. He was, without a doubt, on an alchemy high. After being apart for so long, it was mind boggling to be together again. His long lost love was back. And he wasn't so sure that he could handle that.

"Are we done yet?" Edward asked reluctantly, sheepishly grinning at the glare that Shinjitsu sent him.

He winced, his shoulder in unimaginable pain. The throbbing of his heart beating sent more pain throughout his body. Every thud sent more blood out of his burning shoulder. His eyesight could have been better, and black dots danced across his vision. The blurred edges of his vision started to make him dizzy—or at least he blamed it on that. His body swayed unsteadily, the blood loss and pain finally getting to him.

"Are you alright, Edward-san? What're you doing, Edward-san?" He toppled over, his eyes firmly shut. Harsh pants of air escaped his lungs, and struggling breaths were drawn in, desperation evident. His body locked up in tremors, shudders that were awfully close to convulsions. A wet, choking cough escaped his frowning lips, the colour of his lips gone a sickly blue. Blood splattered the ground, the ruby liquid spilling from his lips. It had done more damage than he had realised.

"I'm... fine." Edward barked out, his voice strangely hoarse. With more of his frightful tremors, he blacked out, disappearing from his inner world with a satisfying, yet dangerous, snapping sound.

...

The winds of Hueco Mundo only acted up in moments of distress. They whipped fiercely at the occupants of the dimension with enough force to knock some of the weaker hollows down. It came rushing at those that stood in its path, wearing their endurance down to a small thread. The crystalline trees and shrubs were uprooted with ease, while all occupants filled with unease. They knew, without a doubt, that whatever was making the winds act up... it was bad... really, _really_, bad. That horrible type of bad that everybody knows about—the one that leaves you wondering why and how it's possible. The gut wrenching, heart stopping, tragically appearing, melancholy filled, and blood curdling bad that people scream until they're hoarse at. The type that not only separates the most together family in the world, no it does much more, it drives them all to suicide, while the smallest of them watches from that hiding spot in their closet, forever scarred and left behind. It seeped into their bones, the feeling of horrible wrong. They had never felt such fear for anything, and they had no idea what they were concerned about.

They all cried out in pain, a pull in their minds shutting their consciousnesses off. Only the strongest of hollows endured, and even they had trouble staying awake. It was like a foreign force—very similar to reiatsu, but far, far older—was trying to take a hold of them. The weaker hollows that had lost consciousness started moving slowly, like somebody else had control of them, but was not used to the weird forms and couldn't control it very well. They drowsily made their way to wherever they were being guided to, all of them headed to the same spot. The wind died down, guiding them towards their destination.

Meanwhile, blood mixed with sand, and a dying boy was lying on the ground. Edward was pissed. Why had he allowed himself to be injured so badly? He knew, without a doubt, that Shinjitsu had not been at full power, but Edward had been hurt so easily! If it had been a fight between actual foes, Shinjitsu would not have been caught so easily, and Edward would have been more careful. But Edward found it so hard to go up to someone, or something, and slash needlessly. It got harder and harder each day he lived (or not, but you know, he can still die of suffocation, right? So doesn't that mean that he's still living?). To plaster anger onto somebody and kill them, it was so _wrong_. He hated how he had to battle. The old Edward Elric would have thought of his anger about every wrong in his world, of everything that had happened to his friends, and been able to attack that anger with ferocious strength. But the truth was... he had forgiven the world. He had forgiven his father; the criminals that roamed the world; he had forgiven Envy, the homunculus that killed Hughes; and he had forgiven himself, at least partially. But he couldn't forgive the Truth, because it was so blunt. Because it was so much like... Edward. Because Edward was so much like... it.

Blood pooled down Edward's face, bubbling out of his mouth with vigour. All he could see was the night sky, and darkness. He raised his good arm up, holding it in front of his face. He stared at the sight for so long that his already numb limb got even number. He lost track of time, the pain pulling him under for what seemed like hours, and delusional dreams fading in and out. If death felt like that, then maybe he'd be alright. He deserved it, anyway. He had forgiven himself for many things, but never for living. It was just something he didn't deserve.

_Oh, God—damn it, make it stop, make it stop, make it __**stop**__—it _hurts_, Al, save me from it, I don't wanna hurt anymore—God, it hurts. Maybe I deserve it—but it hurts—please make it stop—it hurts, hurts, hurts._

Flashes of the day he died crashed through his inner walls, the walls keeping him safe from the horrors of a life that _he_ lived. His innermost thoughts, his sanctuary, had been invaded by the memories that he had lived through. He had seen pain. He had felt pain. The kind of pain that one never forgets, the kind that you feel for the rest of your life. But when he had _died_, god damn it, it had been the most heart wrenching experience of his life. Every breath that he just couldn't seem to breathe in wracked his immobile body in shudders. It was a wonder that he was affected by the gash as much as he was. Normally getting hurt like that was something that he did with such ease that he could be, and was, considered as a masochist.

But it seemed like his sword's alchemical energy rippled through the cells around the wound, deteriorating it and causing the wound to cut deeper, wider, and kill faster. As an alchemist, he felt the wound grow bigger, each cell dying and infecting the next with fatality. It was mind-numbing, unlike the kind of pain that he had experienced when he had died.

He heard it then. The spray of sand as something approached. He heard thudding, and thumping, and groans, and moans. The wind caressed his skin with care, somehow warm. It was the sun that didn't shine in his bleary world. He smiled a sarcastic smile, yet no anger radiated through it. If a hollow was coming, he'd deal with it. He'd gaze at its mask until it finished him. He'd face it with no fear.

That was just how he worked.

Edward howled in pain as golden dust radiated from whatever was surrounding him. It burned him as it was absorbed into his skin. It turned to golden light, shining around his body like he was a divine creature. He felt his cells regenerate, and multiply. It was one of the most painful, yet invigorating, things he had ever felt. He glanced around in wonder, staring with open shock at the vast amount of hollows surrounding him. They stared unseeingly at him, and golden dust blew off of him with the warm wind. He couldn't help but grin at the scene. It was eerily beautiful, and he couldn't help but stare longingly at them. It was pitiful that he exhibited so much subconscious control over them. It made him both happy and scared. It made him angry too. He didn't deserve to be their king, he deserved nothing but pain.

And yet they were healing him like a long lost friend. And in a way, he really was. He had nurtured them into their very essence without ever having been there. For some reason, his fate had been to be their friend. He was a friend of the lost ones. It was a strange thing, but true nonetheless. He was really just the one and only hollow. Nakazora, meaning hollow, was really all he was in that exact moment he was occupying. He was just something that was important to other hollows. He was both the creator and destroyer. The Hollow Alchemist. The Fullmetal Alchemist. The Saviour. The Hero. What was he, _really_?

He didn't really know anymore.

Could anybody really, truly say with absolute conviction that they knew who they were without a doubt?

No. It was impossibly impossible. But he could try to understand, because he was the one—and only—Edward Elric. He had gone through many things, yet no amount of self pity ever reached him. He would stand tall even if the Truth took both legs... even if he was hated for the rest of his life. Because even when he was the only person left to face an immortal being—and damn it, it hurt to keep standing when all others had failed—he _didn't give up_. He couldn't help but keep fighting. Fighting for what he believed in—even when darkness swelled up to shroud those beliefs in obscurity—he was the light that shone brightest in the dark.

One day, maybe peace would come. But he was content to just keep going. He needed help. It was a fact that he couldn't deny. If all the help that the world could offer was a couple broken souls with no home or will to live—he'd accept it, and help them too.

His eyes widened as hollow after hollow trudged from all directions towards him. They formed a circle, the golden dust turning into a tornado of glittering energy. It surrounded him, suffocating him with that warmth that came from everywhere, yet nowhere. He hated how it made him feel _better_. He just couldn't help how the warmth affected him. It made him think of his childhood, of how Al—and God, how he missed him—used to fight with him over Winry, and how his mother's eyes used to light of with pride as he made an alchemical toy. It was painful, and yet, he felt himself tear up, the salty water spilling over his dark gold eyelashes and onto his pale face. His skin—pale like parchment—seemed to grow healthier, the tan skin coming back, and the warmth making his face red.

Oh God, he was glad. He knew he should have been longing for death, but he couldn't accept it when he had created such a mess and needed to right it again. He could never, ever, go back to the Truth's clutches—or wherever he would go when he eventually came to death's door—without rectifying his mistakes. He never seemed to stop making mistakes.

"Thank you." He croaked out a response to the hollows—they were huge in numbers—but the tears continued to fall.

He didn't deserve to live.

_Make it stop—stop, stop, stop!_

Okay. Like I said above, please vote for this story if you like it. I'd rather you vote than review, actually. But please review anyways. I'm sorry for the rant I said I wouldn't give you up there... But yeah. I'm just really busy—all the time—and if you think that that's a lot, then think again. I was doing double the stuff up there and more last year, so have pity for a poor girl with issues with saying no, doing too much, giving away food, and helping out friends/teachers.

Please review/vote!


	5. Fight Me

Hello... Well, considering I haven't updated in about a month, an apology is due. I'm _really_ sorry. But, you know, life's a bitch. This poem below is just something I wrote in a few minutes, my muse being this story. So I guess I'll call it Hollow/Nakazora. I feel angst-ridden today. So my writing kind of reflects that. But it is usually always angst filled, so not much of a difference, I guess.

Again, I'm sorry.

**[EDIT: I've gotten some feedback, and all of Edward's attacks are going to be in English/Amestrian. It'll be in italics, and then repeated without italics to show that he spoke in Amestrian, and the English. Just like how they speak in Japanese and then English or combo of both.]**

I do not own anything.

"We're changing tides.  
We're switching sides.  
So rise up and tame thee.  
For instinct will change me.

I'm a man of the unsuitable moon.  
Meanwhile, the stars embody opportune.  
They are out of my grasping hands, out of reach.  
I sink in the loneliness where dead men preach.

Do your most grievous deed.  
Watch the blind man see himself bleed.  
Stab my back with my best friend's blade.  
On my grave I watch my memory fade.

The man in the moon whispers secrets the same.  
My soul has hung its head in shame.  
Here lies the tree where dead men perch.  
My faithless blood stains the immortal birch."

There was a disturbance in the force, per se. Although Edward had no knowledge of the well known movie quote, it was evident to him. He could sense at least ten Menos Grande hollows gathering in the same spot. Edward had an affinity to reiatsu in general. He could sense it easily and mold it with ease. When reiatsu had been his only friend for the many years he had been dead, it had become a friend in an abyss of loneliness. His connection to it only helped him understand it much better than other people. So it was no problem for him to sense the Menos Grandes. He snarled in annoyance and prepared to investigate.

In a way, he was built to understand. He was smart enough to theorize, and therefore he was smart enough to adapt and solve anything he came across. No problem was too complex for the Elric Prodigy. He hated it when Al would tell him the truth. Edward had always been smarter than him. Al had been amazing with Alchemy, but when they were children, it had been _Edward_ that had made the equations, and it had been _Edward_ who had made the better transmutations. Al had been good, but he had been content to watch his older brother shine. Edward felt like a complete idiot. He had had the idea to bring their mother back from the dead, and it had been his idea to use their blood as payment for her soul, and _every single idea_ that went completely wrong happened because of his absolute disregard for anything other than his own selfish goals.

"God damn it." He focused on trying to Sonido, wanting to break the speed record that he had achieved. It came to him, right then. It couldn't be your body going that fast, could it? Yes, enriched with reiatsu, your physical strength could multiply to immeasurable heights, but with speed, you could only go so far. So what if saturating yourself with reiatsu actually did something else? What if it made the area around you full of reiatsu, and so when you tried to move, it displaced the spirit particles and teleported you in the direction that you wanted to move in. Only by better controlling your reiatsu and footwork could you achieve more speed, because nobody had ever realised that it wasn't you doing the work, but the particles around you. It was a breakthrough. How he had realised this, he had no idea. Maybe the Truth had given him even more knowledge for having died. A soul for immaculate knowledge was a fair price, he supposed. Equivalence Exchange was not very exact sometimes.

He let his fiery reiatsu flare around him, pulling it in until it just barely coated his skin. He then let it into the surrounding air, the spirit particles running wild with the sudden charge. The massive reiatsu left inside him pulled at the particles, until the heavily saturated ones started to pull at every atom that made who he was. He took off at a walk, every step making him appear at least a mile away, and so fast that he was hardly even a blur. He was barely a flash of light being reflected off of him as he sped in the direction of the Menos Grande hollows. He laughed a deep laugh, loving the feeling that performing a Sonido gave him. It didn't take long for him to reach the site of the reiatsu flares. The Menos Grandes were crowded around, their black and white contrasting colours giving them away, even though their massive size did that anyways.

They were Gillian, the lowest form, but were relatively strong. They stared with blank indifference at everything, slowly bringing their reiatsu up to the sky and ripping a dimensional hole in it. Their reiatsu started to glow as they entered the rip in space. Edward stood there, puzzled at the scene.

_What the fuck are they doing?_ He thought to himself, absorbed in his thoughts.

_**They're going to a different dimension, baka-san. They're using their reiatsu to create a rip between them, so they can access wherever they're going. It has to do with their reiatsu tearing apart the spirit particles and making a bridge to the closest dimension.**_ With the new information rushing throughout his brain, Edward was already making connections and theories. Flashes of information sent through his subconscious gave him even more understanding. He hummed in satisfaction, laying out his ideas in his brain and trying to understand how to be able to do it himself.

Because he wouldn't let his mistakes be slaughtered in an entirely new dimension. He couldn't let that happen. He needed more knowledge, more understanding. And Edward Elric always worked until he had no chance whatsoever, and even then, he had never given up. He still had those hopeless ideals that he'd be able to save his mother from death, although the possibility of that was nothing.

It was nothing.

He was nothing.

...

It was crazy—how strong he was, at least. Ichigo had just defeated Byakuya freaking Kuchiki, and he had been batted away with ease. With all the Captains as backup, it made a considerable force against him, but Ichigo, for the first time in a long time, felt he had hopelessness inside him. So as the Captains surged forwards, it was no surprise that Aizen had Menos Grandes at his disposal. The sky—it was a rare blue, azure—was literally ripped open as they stormed through. There were at least ten crowding around the hole in the sky, their heads peeking out and black masks dominating the ceiling of the Seireitei. He felt a gasp freeze in his throat as a tube of glowing reiatsu surrounded the three traitors. Somebody—he really didn't care who—explained it as a Negación, the technique that Gillian-type hollows used to rescue their comrades.

So that feeling of hopeless hopelessness snuck up to him yet again.

He saw the jaws of every shinigami open in shock as another rip opened. A figure clad in a brilliant golden reiatsu fell out of it, a grace unheard of keeping whoever it was in an upright position. He flew down the side of the beam of light keeping Aizen and his followers safe. They watched in awe as he drew a gigantic sword from his back, gold reiatsu coating it. He slashed at the Negación, tearing open the side of it. He landed on the ground with feline grace, bending his legs at the knees until he was on the ground in a crouch. They looked at him in complete shock. Hair the colour of his reiatsu fell down to his waist, and a mask that embodied the word "feline" covered his facial features. Liquid gold eyes peered from their depths, and a sword built for killing was in his slender grasp. He was clad in white and had the stance of a warrior.

"Who are you?" Aizen asked with a sudden persuasive smile set on his features. The mysterious hollow ignored the smile, but looked at Aizen with annoyance.

"I am The Hollow Alchemist." A tough voice came out of the mask, but yet it was also very sleek and attractive. Whoever owned the voice was probably good looking too, if his voice was what you chose to judge him on. "You may also call me Nakazora. I'm here to kick your ass." Edward smirked behind the mask, knowing that he probably had no chance whatsoever for winning with his current ability level. But enslaving anybody, his kind especially, was unforgivable. It made his blood boil and his fists shake. He was surprised at how calm he was at the moment though.

"Now why would you want to do that to somebody on the same side as all hollows, Nakazora-san?" Aizen sent another award winning smile at him, hardly perturbed, but still slightly nervous at the hollow for having broken a Negación. He wanted him on his side... that was for sure.

"These aren't hollows. Hollows were around long before you stupid shinigami. Hell, _I_ was around for far longer than you idiotic shinigami. I was around when Hueco Mundo was full of life, and I was around before hollows developed into the abominations that they are now. It was my fault for not taking care of them. So I'm back now. I'm going to set it right." Edward sighed, meeting each shinigami with his own brave gaze of contempt. He glared at each one of them. "I'm not on your side. I never will be." He turned to Aizen. "And I'll never be on your side. You have aimlessly slaughtered my kind for generation after generation, without pause. I can't shrug it off and hug you like we're best friends... because we aren't. But I'm not a threat unless you make me one."

Soul Society felt fear for the first time in a long time. This man—no, hollow—had power leaking off of him in amounts that overpowered their senses. It was old power too, the kind that couldn't be tampered with. If he was as old as he was implying, well then he'd be able to beat them as easily as a Taichou beating a mere human.

He raised his gigantic blade, covering it in his weird golden energy, and stared at Aizen with utter contempt. Aizen held up his hand, hesitation barely registering in his expression. His cheeks tightened as he stared at the blonde alchemist, his outstretched palm facing him. "Would you mind telling me how you broke that Negación?" Edward chuckled, the menacing sound chilling some of the more cowardly shinigami. His cold, hard glare pierced their souls with an intensity that made tremors reverberate down their spines. Orihime stared at the weird hollow, tears flowing down her face with every tremor.

"Simple logic... you should get some, ignorant beast." He scoffed, the young human inside of him coming through. It took a lot to keep his head cool. Wasn't it easier to just... beat them up? If he let loose, yes, he'd seem like am maniac, but wasn't he the definition of that word? He was angry, he was damaged, he was full of contempt, and yes, he was bloodthirsty. So if he went all out, would anybody blame him? Insanity clawed at the edges of his stubborn mind, and his willpower was waning.

Anger clouded Aizen's vision, his mind bent on making that ignorant hollow aware that he was the ignorant one, not Aizen. His eyes flashed with madness, and Edward sensed that the man had just barely lost control of himself, and his emotions. Aizen took a couple paces forward, his hand bringing out the Zanpakutou from its sheath. Edward braced himself, already soaking the molecules in the air with reiatsu so he could Sonido efficiently. A big grin spread across Aizen's face, his eyes wide with a psychotic and mentally unstable urge to soak his hands with the blood of the ignorant fools that challenged his authority as King of the world. He was undefeatable, he was all-powerful, and he _was_ power.

"You will bow to me, because I will not take insubordination from a beast like you, hollow." Aizen took a couple slow steps, and then in a flash, used Shunpo to get behind Edward. He had to move quickly to deflect the blow aimed for right between his shoulder blades. While he knew that it would be more efficient to just move out of the way, he wanted to assess the man's close combat ability, and so he slid his giant blade under his arm and upwards, leaving Aizen to simply strike the broad blade's surface rather than get his back.

Aizen simply narrowed his eyes and became faster, leaving Edward no choice but to keep his back away from Aizen. Each blow was either rapidly thrust at him or strong enough to jar the bones in his arms. He defended himself from the blows as much as he could, but his arms were sore, and Aizen was obviously much stronger at the moment. Aizen's face was a mask now, his anger had subsided to extreme irritation, but he was able to control that. Edward however couldn't seem to get into the fight. It was like somehow his body was telling him that it wasn't the right time to fight with the man. So Edward found himself being dealt blow after blow to his body, with most of them being reiatsu wounds from the excessive amount Aizen was pumping out. An elbow to his chin snapped his head back, and he winced as he heard a quiet crack resound through the air.

Aizen smirked, delivering a blow to his gut that sent him to the ground, a small amount of blood flowing from his mouth. Edward hurt like hell. It wasn't an exaggeration, but he had felt like worse, so he glared with fury, his eyes an open book. Aizen flash-stepped in front of Edward, and grasped his long braid of golden hair with strong hands. Edward gritted his teeth as he pulled his head back, kneeling with a straight back in front of Aizen. Aizen's sword was poised at his throat, and he could feel the stares of all the shinigami. "Any... last words?" Liquid gold eyes, just like his father's, stared with contempt.

"Fuck you."

Aizen's eyes flashed with something unrecognisable, and Edward felt fear. If he died right there, mistakes would never be righted, actions would never be taken, and lives would never be the same. It was his job to keep living until his goals were met... by whatever means necessary. It hurt to think those thoughts, but it was true. He was needed, however angry that made him. An outcast, a mistake like him... he should never be needed. That meant that he mattered, and he certainly didn't. He stared at his Zanpakutou with renewed vigour. He couldn't let him win... right?

"**_Truth is Strength!_ Truth is Strength!"** He roared out the attack with ferocious killer intent, slamming his sword into the ground. Dust sprayed in a storm of intense reiatsu fueled alchemy, and elaborate patterns of spikes erupted from the ground. Edward directed them at Aizen in a specific pattern that made it hard to dodge them, but alas, it was no use. His attacks went to waste on him, for Aizen was quick... _really quick_. But the intended effect had done its job. Edward had only wanted to get Aizen away from him, nothing more at the moment.

Each breath he took was rough, and he started to feel his adrenalin wear off while fatigue crept in. He panted, but kept his gaze forwards, looking at the evil man before him.

"Why is he s-s-still f—" Orihime choked out a sob, but continued, "—fighting?" She sank to her knees, the hollow's brave face despite almost dying making her feel fear for him. Her friends looked at her with sympathy; their hearts clouded with the same suffocating emotions, just their bodies weren't succumbing to them.

"Orihime... maybe it's because when you have nothing to live for but a cause that you spend your every waking minute fighting for, it's simply fate to go down fighting." Chad looked at the golden brown haired girl, his gaze softening at how her hair glowed orange in the light. His dark skin and curly chestnut hair blowing in the wind made an almost surreal scene, a philosopher's perfect picture as he speaks words that others worship with their entire beings. He said those words with such conviction that she nodded and sniffled, trying to hide her weakness.

She crawled over to where Ichigo had dragged himself, her heart pounding as she checked his vitals. She smiled back as he gave her a lopsided grin. "I tried, Orihime-chan. I really did." Blood was covering him, but she knew that her perfect Kurosaki-kun would never leave them there to fight alone. "T-that hollow... I have a feeling that he's a... a good guy."

"I do too." They all crowded around him. Somehow the heavy reiatsu being focused on another subject... it had them strong enough to move. They all refocused on the battle, but stared with sadness as the hollow was batted away, and Aizen escaped from justice.

All the Captains and Vice-Captains, the lowly unseated members, and all others that could still move rushed to the whereabouts of the mysterious Hollow Alchemist. He was surprisingly relatively unhurt, a few cuts scattered around his body and extreme bruising, but that was relatively normal for a fight. The worst thing was the blank face he carried as he laid on the ground.

His golden eyes stared at the sky in an apathetic state, his right arm held in front of him, his gaze staring right through it and into the sun. Edward couldn't help it. He couldn't even help in that stupid situation. He was supposed to be a saviour, but he just hurt. And hurt. And hurt. It killed him to be unable to defeat an ignorant fool like that man.

"Are you alright, Nakazora-san?" Ah, the shinigami brats. They were ignorant enough to make that man into what he was, but they also could have good intentions as well. It was a large eyed woman—no, she was barely in her teens, probably. She had clips tucking her bangs to the sides of her head, and a rather large bust. She spoke softly, and somehow he felt a pang of longing for Winry. She was the complete opposite of the headstrong mechanic, but she was just as beautiful too.

"Yes. I'll leave you guys soon, so don't worry. I just need to collect my thoughts."

"Wait a minute, hollow." An old man with scars covering his wrinkled face and a long white beard trailing down spoke, his wizened voice reaching Edward's ears. "You have trespassed here, and not only have you declared war on us, which you did, you have also insulted our intelligence too."

"Well, I don't see the problem here, old man."

"O-old man! How dare you speak to me like that?"

"Well, considering I'm older than you by far and still look three thousand years younger, I _do_ have the right."

The group all shared a collective sweat drop at the suddenly antagonistic hollow.

Yeah. That's it. I decided to end it on a more happy/humorous note than my other chapters... hope it turned out well. I wrote the last bit quickly, so I hope it makes sense. Please tell me if I'm rushing this story too much. I appreciate feedback. Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please review! Oh yeah! I just recently got braces off. Yay! (Completely forgot to say it earlier)


	6. Depressed and Dainty

Hey guys... Sorry for the late update. You guys know what a googlewhack is, right? Well, it's where you type two words into google, and then try to get only one result. It's time consuming, yet mind numbingly fun. I got two. I don't think they count though. Autoschediastical bowflex and autoschediastical googlewhack. Yeah... I'm not very good at it. My first good one wasn't an actual googlewhack, it got two results. Autoschediastical assmuncher. Yep. I'm weird.

I suggest you try it.

There's another round of Goldworth Awards going around. Guess which story is nominated for best crossover? WOOOOOOOOOO! SHINJITSU NO O! YAY! Um... Yeah... here's the link, take out the spaces:

http: / / goldworthawards . webs . com /

Song for this chapter: Boston by Augustana

I do not own anything. Except the bragging rates of getting nominated and getting second place at the last goldworth awards, except it was best after story.

She smiled brightly at the people passing by, not at all minding how they didn't see her. Cerulean blue eyes blinked rapidly at her hands as they moved. Using tools, smelling that modern man-made smell, the cold metal, and the heat of electricity; it was all of her passions summed up in one sentence. Of course, she loved other things. Her parents, Granny Pinako, Alphonse, Trisha, Edward... they were her other loves. But now that death had taken over her soul, she had been confused in the beginning. Edward had died before her, so why wasn't he waiting with his arms open, and telling her that he had promised not to make her cry while she sobbed? It had taken a while to figure things out.

Having been transported to Soul Society after dying—she passed through the Gate, and knew why the Elric brothers were so serious about the matter—and having dramatic reiatsu flares constantly, the shinigami found her instantly. Her Zanpakutou spirit was in the form of a girl made entirely out of automail, and her mindscape was the entire town of Risembool. It came to her naturally, being a shinigami, that is.

She was the only person in the history of Soul Society to belong to two divisions, although many people didn't know it. She wasn't an unfriendly person, and she certainly wasn't weak, but she looked alien and foreign to the other shinigami. She acted differently too. She didn't obey normal Earthly customs. She came from another place, a different place. She was the first seat of the Fourth and Fifth Divisions, respectively. She was rarely seen by anybody other than the Captains and Lieutenants of her divisions. Her first responsibility was to the Fifth Division, being the squad she joined when she first graduated from the Academy. But she was "rented" out to the Fourth Division so many times for her Zanpakutou's strange ability that Yamamoto-sama decided to permanently make her a part of both.

She loved being a shinigami, but it got lonely, and she still searched desperately for Edward. Yes, Winry Rockbell was deeply, irrevocably, and noticeably in love with a Mr. Edward Elric. Somehow she managed to cut herself off from everybody else in this weird, deathly (literally) world.

The metallic parts in her hands hummed as she swiftly put them together, her eyes alight with the thrill of putting together the electronic and mechanical puzzles that she loved.

She loved a lot of things, but it hurt so much to know how much Granny Pinako would be hurting with her gone. When she had first arrived at the land of the dead, all she could think about was how selfish she was. When Edward had died—she couldn't take it. It ate at her more than her parents' deaths ever did. To love somebody with your entire being, when you can't stop thinking about that special person that you can't live without them... it defined her. For weeks, months, years...? Winry sobbed and cried alone with Granny Pinako there to comfort her, even though it never worked. It got so bad that Al could hardly stand to be around her—she was turning into Trisha Elric with every breath.

They watched with tear stained eyes as she slowly became sick with grief. Al couldn't help but start to grow angry at his brother when he had died helplessly—he couldn't stand the fact that Edward and Hohenheim were so alike. Edward was killing his only love with his absence, just as Hohenheim had killed their mother with his own lack of being there.

She still remembered that one day when Miss Hawkeye called her, asking if she'd like to come down to central—she did it in hopes of saving the girl from her own depression, but it led to her death. It was twisted—how much love affected everyone. It caused so much pain that death was a blissful release.

They went to have coffee first—a little cafe that Roy had shown Riza when they went out to celebrate his recent promotion. They talked for what seemed like hours, starting with light things like the weather—Winry was sure that she was just doing it to be polite—and ending with tearful sobs that went something like, "God, I—" sob "Edward—" sob "love him—" sob "so much!" It hurt Riza to see the once bright girl curl into a ball in the middle of public (although the place wasn't very full) and lose it.

Riza wanted to cheer her up, Winry knew, and it was driving her spirits down to see Winry get worse. So Riza took Winry to stay at her apartment, instead of being lonely at some hotel.

They got a call in the morning as they were preparing to go get breakfast—Riza was needed to go help arrest an alchemist that was kidnapping people and deconstructing them. Winry immediately thought of Scar—and then Edward, she missed him so, _so_ much—but it was somebody named Miles or something of the sort. You'd think that she'd remember the name of her own killer. She insisted of being taken with her, and even though Riza had a nagging thought that something bad was going to happen, she allowed it. She didn't want to leave her alone anyways, and there would be other military officers to protect her.

But it went wrong. There was so much blood when they arrived—the man had _carved_ the array _into_ _his skin_, and Winry stared with open shock, her already extremely frail body shaking with the effort of puking. A circle of bodies that were mangled beyond comprehension were littered around the man, who stood there with a cackle in his laugh and a sick gleam in his eyes. When he turned and saw Winry, however, his eyes filled up with tears and he looked at her with recognition.

She was apparently an almost exact copy of his daughter—who ran away with a boy named Eric and never saw her father again. He ran at her while Riza was helping the other officers rescue the kidnapped civilians, smearing her with blood and whispering the name Wendy over and over again. She couldn't fight back and it suffocated her until she screamed out for help—the others had gone to help Riza and had no idea that the man had appeared when they left the room. The man seemed to notice how she wanted to escape. He didn't like it.

He cussed and beat her until she sat sobbing on the bloody floor. And in one last act of desperation for her to stay with him, he blasted a hole through her heart with his mangled arm—just like Scar—and decomposed his brains into mush. It was horrible. She had never felt so much pain, but darkness overcame her almost immediately. And then she was dead.

It was so unreal.

But it_ was_ real.

And when she woke up, she was staggering towards a gate of sorts with a long line of vaguely foreign looking people, but all relatively normal, lined up in front of it. They were all bewildered, and when she asked where she was, they simply replied in a dazed voice saying, "I'm not sure..." or "I don't know..." Most of them looked distantly Xingese, but with a tinge of this or that that made them relatively different.

Another thing she noticed was the agonisingly slow pace that the line moved at. It stretched on for close to a mile, with the looming white "gate" ahead. Somehow it was intimidating, even though it wasn't exactly big. It stood at roughly ten meters high. She saw a pair of people that were presumably guarding the door; they had long and flowing black robe-like clothes on, and what seemed to be some sort of stick or something at their sides. She couldn't tell from the distance.

She wondered what the hell she was doing there when she was hit with a realisation that made her slam into the ground and retch out the contents of her stomach—which, mind you, was just acidic gastro vascular juices. She started sobbing, and screaming, and then sobbing again. It hurt so much—and it felt so good when she had forgotten all about her life—and now that she remembered it... it was like it had happened again.

As she shuddered on the cold hard ground, she looked at the others standing in front of her, realising with a start that they were either looking at her with sympathy, or acting as if it was normal. She reasoned that it was because they were dead too, and had probably freaked out like her. It was a common occurrence, then.

She looked back down to the ground and sobbed in fear as the contents of her stomach disappeared in the white ground. It was white all around. The sky, the door/gate, the strange robe-thing she was wearing... but why? Was the afterlife supposed to be innocent, like pretending that they weren't all dead, and that there were plenty more to come?

When she saw Edward... she'd have to tell him that he was _so_ wrong. "God, and the afterlife, doesn't exist!" Ha! But as she slowly picked herself off of the ground, she realised that she wouldn't see him because he, too, was dead. Was he there too... beyond the gates? Or was he punished for... for his younger years?

She'd have to find him, she reasoned. And she wouldn't stop until she did. There were people behind her now. Two men were staring at her as if it was a dream, their appearances bewildered like the rest of the line. They opened their mouths, ready to ask the rather obvious question on their minds. She shook her heads apologetically, replying with a simple, "I don't know, sorry."

She turned around, looking at what was to come with trepidation. When she found Edward, what would she do? Press her longing lips against his forbidden ones like how she had always imagined? Would she sob until her tears were gone? Would she hit him for leaving her? She smiled sadly at the memories that came to mind. Edward would yell at her for making him a weakness. She would yell at him for thinking that he was just like Hohenheim—he left, and then she died.

"So, Hideki-kun, what do you think this is?" The youngest looking man—no, she corrected herself, they were about her age, boys—didn't bother whispering as he looked around in wonder. He looked about seventeen or so, and Hideki looked to be twenty five or so.

"I don't know, Daisuke-chan." The eldest rubbed his temples with a slender hand, a tired look upon his face. "But, considering what happened, I think we're... in heaven."

The younger boy's face lit up in curiosity and childlike wonder, but clouded over with the realisation of what it meant.

"It's alright, buddy. We're here together, so no worries."

"I know... onii-kun."

The elder boy chuckled warmly, ruffling the younger boy's black hair affectionately. Daisuke blushed at his older brother's blatant display of closeness. He had shy brown eyes that peered from beneath a mop of charcoal eyes. He stuck his tongue out at Hideki and punched his arm playfully. They laughed at each other's antics, and Winry giggled despite her desperate attempts to stop herself. As they turned to look at her with questioning gazes, she quickly covered her mouth with the back of her hand, blushing bright red that she had been caught.

"Ah, I'm sorry. It's just... you guys are so sweet with each other. You remind me of my friends, they're brothers too." Winry replied with a small smile, her eyes widening in surprise as the two brothers grinned happily.

"You think so, onee-chan?" Daisuke, the younger one, asked with wide and curious eyes. He had the air of a child about him, as if he was younger than his seventeen or so years. She smiled happily back at him.

"Of course... you guys must be close. I'm Winry Rockbell." She extended her hand out for a hand shake, a friendly smile still on her face. The eldest, Hideki, nodded politely, reaching out to briefly lock hands with her. He held on slightly—imperceptibly—longer than necessary. He sent a small smile at her, unsure of the obviously foreign lady they were talking to.

"I'm Hisami Hideki, and this is my Otouto, Daisuke-chan." The weird suffixes confused her for a moment, but somehow in a couple seconds, with flashes of the Gate and the Truth in her mind, she knew that some were simply a formality, while others were to show that you're close to somebody. And they said their last names first, instead of the way she was used to.

"Oh. Well, I guess I should call myself Rockbell Winry, right? Your surname goes first, right?" Winry asked, just to be sure.

"No, that's alright. Your name's foreign, so we know which one's your given name." Hideki smiled amusedly at her, leaving Winry to flush uncomfortably at her ignorance.

"So... this is the afterlife, ne?" Winry looked to where Daisuke was openly staring at everything, turning around when his neck reached its rotating limits. He spoke the words with wonder, and Winry was surprised that they were taking their deaths with such a calm demeanour.

"I suppose."

Winry realised with a start that they had reached the white gate, and her lip trembled at the people ahead of her as they passed through the gate without trouble. There was no doubt—she was scared.

She had tried to kill a murderer—the very same one that killed State Alchemists and killed her parents—but she had been terrified and angry at having just found out about a bunch of things. She was brave, but she couldn't help but fear the different possibilities that awaited her beyond the fearsome gate.

"Here we go, Daisuke-kun, Hideki-kun."

"Here we go." Daisuke replied with a nervous chuckle, not realising that he was just echoing the other girl's words.

And then they were there. It happened so quickly. One moment they were waiting to speak with the people guarding the big door, and then they were walking through it into the world beyond. A bright light blinded them—they didn't know, but when the shinigami guarding the gate had muttered a number... that was the section of the Rukongai that they were heading to. The man had, lucky for them, whispered the number 'one'. The bright flash switched where the gate opened to—so it had switched to transporting to the first district, the nicest of them all.

The streets were crowded with nicely dressed people milling about, smiles gracing their faces, and nice houses to their names. Winry felt her face smile in anticipation of discovering all the beautiful things that the afterlife had to offer.

And then the first fit of reiatsu happened. A flare of intense energy throbbed through her core, making her feel strangely tired and hungry. There was a sharp stab of pain as the energy intensified, and then she passed out. The energy was felt on the radar of the Twelfth Division, and they immediately sent out some low-level shinigami to go collect the possible shinigami candidate.

That was how she was inducted into the estranged family of shinigami that defended the Seireitei. She smiled happily, remembering how two years after that, Hideki and Daisuke were found to be shinigami. They weren't very powerful, just low-level shinigami, but they were her closest (and, relatively, her only) friends.

She was still in shock over the whole ordeal.

But now her Zanpakutou happily served her, and she served her Zanpakutou too. Winry looked around in shock as Unohana-sama's voice echoed throughout her mind. She started to cry as she heard about Aizen-sama's betrayal and Momo-san's heartbreaking confusion. She had known about the invaders, but hadn't bothered to help—they didn't seem like that big of a bother. And there were hardly enough people to do anything, let alone break into the Soul Society. But then again, Edward and Alphonse had always been able to cause more destruction than two kids were supposed to.

But that meant she'd have to quit the Fourth Division to attend to the Fifth Division, now that Momo-san was incapacitated and Aizen-sama—no, teme—was an enemy. She'd probably become Lieutenant of the Fifth Division, and do the Captain's work while Momo was recovering.

It was troublesome [Ha-ha! Shikamaru...]. She also realised that she'd have to wait until after the stupid humans were out of the Soul Society before quitting. Unohana-sama had said that they needed healers. With a soft sigh, she focused on trying to find where the strongest reiatsu signatures were.

She rolled her eyes at the violent nature of her job and flash-stepped out of her cozy apartment (she hated the barracks). She wasn't exactly the fastest shinigami, so it took quite a while for her to get to her destination—by the Hougyoku. The destructive scene that she came upon left her speechless—although she wasn't going to talk much anyways.

The land was scorched and torn up from reiatsu use, the air heavy with tension and fear, the only smell she could sniff out was blood, and everywhere she looked... there were injuries and a casualty or two. The tangy blood hanging in the air hung heavy on her tongue, weighing her high spirit down to the depressing state that she had been in after Edward's death. She felt sick, her knotted stomach rolling and flopping around a desperate attempt to purge the atrocious death from her system. She really was too sensitive for this job. A sob escaped her lips, but realising that she had work to do, she bit her lips for a second or two, and then straightened them into a grim line.

She wiped away the excess moisture invading her eyes, and set off to where a large group of high-level shinigami were gathered.

She had a scary feel in the pit of her stomach. It was like she was about to discover something that would fill her with happiness that was almost impossible to achieve, and then disdain that would suffocate her. The shinigami were crowded around something or somebody, and their stances were wary and tense. She adjusted her own countenance to suit whatever was there.

"Yamamoto-soutaicho, what's going on?" Winry asked gingerly, her curious cerulean blue eyes lighting up with wary curiosity. Her long blonde hair sat on her shoulders delicately with only the wind left to push it around.

The old man turned around, the scars covering his face acting as a painful reminder of how far you have to go to become Commander-general of the Gotei 13. His long white beard was a stark contrast to the flames he controlled and the blood he pulled from his enemies.

His face was full of irritation. He glared at everyone and everything in his path as he turned his attention to her.

"There's an arrogant hollow here, claiming to be the King or something and he's apparently a good natured fellow." He said the last part with sarcasm that Winry didn't think he was capable of.

"Oh, well, what can I do?" she replied after a somewhat awkward pause.

"Go heal the idiotic Ryoka."

And with that, she turned away from where the mysterious shinigami was located, and went off to go search for the other mysterious people in the Seireitei—the invaders.

She hoped that they weren't as bad as they were made out to be.

...

Ha! You guys thought that I was going to make her meet him, didn't you? But I'm evil. I also couldn't think of an appropriate way for them to meet in front of everybody without revealing that they know each other... so more continuation in the next chapter. Edward AND Winry. Yay! *Happy Dance*

Oh! I'm beta-ing two people now! Go check out YukiHimeChaan. Her story's called "Finders Keepers". It's Ulquiorra x Orihime. Seriously, the pairing's ACTUALLY GOOD. Trust me.

And the other one is by Scylent. She's (or he's, I'm not sure at the moment ... heh heh heh...) not finished going over what she/he wants to do for her/his story. I'll tell you when I know. It's an FMA crossover with... we're not sure yet. Probably NCIS. Or some other detective/crime show.

Please go check 'em out. This is advertising at its best. :)


	7. Three Cheers For My Fears

Sorry for being a lazy ass. I can't believe that I've kept you waiting for so long. Hope you enjoy. This chapter elaborates more on Winry's powers.

I do not own anything.

It hurt to see that everybody feared him. It also hurt to have to justify his existence to a race of people that shouldn't exist. Every look brought more weight to his shoulders. Every glance brought troubled stares to his mind. He wasn't invincible. His fight with that "Aizen" fellow had further proved it.

He hated every single thought racing through his mind. It throbbed with _doubt_ and _pain_ and he couldn't stop his _mistakes and_—well, it affected him. He cursed the day he'd been reborn in the afterlife, and he cursed there _being_ an afterlife. He hated a lot of things because other emotions hurt too much. It wasn't worth putting himself in anguish because of something that he didn't even like. So, he hated, he loathed... and he fought.

He felt sympathy for their cause, at times, when it didn't feel so wrong to be standing there with people that killed souls and justified it by saying that they were "too far gone". He ignored every fibre of his being that was screaming out that they were going to kill him and his kind.

He realised that they did not know everything about hollows. He knew that the "hollows" of today had a right to that name. The original hollows had had a full body—while the new ones had a hole that represented their misery. It made them empty... hollow... and it left them as nothing more than animalistic instinct-filled monsters. The glory of the originals had fallen far to become a sub-species that was hated throughout the land.

It was useless to kill them off; it just drove them to kill back in fear and anger. But he wanted to stop it. To make sure that they didn't have to go through that would be the first step in the journey to restore them back into something humane.

They were so misguided that it stressed him to even think about it. How they got that way left a bottomless pit in his soul, guilt-filled and melancholy. It was the one thing anchoring him to life, the one thing keeping him from death. He was a... big brother of sorts, to hollows. And because he looked at it that way, thoughts of Al flooded his mind, and the hollows _were_ Al, and he _couldn't abandon Al_, and—well, it didn't bode well for his mental health. In fact, it wore away at the already thin thread of sanity that he had left.

The old man's eyes narrowed and he was suddenly overcome with the feeling of nervousness that his teacher had given him. He scratched the back of his head in a nervous gesture that showed both his sheepish and laidback feelings. Edward sighed, glancing around at the shinigami that had surrounded him. A rather kind pair of older men—one with long white hair, the other with long dark brown—gazed at him with studying eyes, their kindness replaced with not-so-veiled hostility. A gigantic man (I'm not short, damn it!) with long black hair and tiny bells tied to the ends of it grinned at him, his one eye challenging and wild. He had scars all over his face and what was visible of his body, with an eye patch covering one eye.

They were all odd characters, but then he remembered what he obviously looked like and grimaced underneath the mask. The old man opened his mouth to speak, but ended up turning away to speak to somebody. There was a gust of soothing, familiar reiatsu, but it was gone as soon as it came, leaving him longing to run in the direction it wandered off to. The old man turned back to him, his narrowed eyes accusing him of being something he wasn't. Well, not entirely, at least.

For the first time, having only had himself and his zanpakutou to talk to, he realised how bad his language skills were. When the shinigami spoke, their words were smooth, while his were rather rough and accented. It was like he had learned the language that they spoke overnight. Japanese, was it? But he'd had no practice with it and didn't pronounce everything correctly.

"You, hollow, are _guilty_ of the crime of _being a hollow_, and must be put to death _immediately_." Yamamoto spoke gravely, as if he actually thought that it would be a sad thing to kill off just another hollow.

"You know what, old man? This is bullshit!" Edward took a step forward, ignoring the swords immediately drawn and pointed towards him.

"I'm just as human as you are, and admittedly, you guys aren't really human at all, but _you used to be_! I used to be _human_ too!" Edward pointed an accusing finger at the leader of the shinigami, his unseen eyes flashing furiously. "But we died! It's what we do! I just happened to die and become a _hollow_, which, I'd like to point out, is an insulting name! We aren't missing _anything that you aren't missing yourself_! Before you judge me and my kind, you should understand us first!" And with those angry words, he reached upwards, ripping the mask from his face. It dissolved into golden dust that disappeared into the air, leaving the shinigami to gape in astonishment.

"You-you're—" one began to speak, but was abruptly cut off.

"Yeah, assholes, I'm nineteen, _and_ human. Actually, I was nineteen years, sixth months, five days, seven hours, four minutes, and fifty three seconds old when I died. You think you can just pick and choose who to kill? Fat chance!" Edward spat at the ground, sunshine yellow eyes glittering. His argument was sound, and his voice was passionate. It took them all a couple seconds to realise that this was a _hollow_, and that very same hollow was trying to liberate both himself and his people against the shinigami.

"You have no right to say that! Hollows have killed us off for generations! My little brother was killed just last week! What can you say to justify that? _What can you say?_" A tall man with dark hair and dark eyes stepped forward _("Piss off, Mustang! I'm not your dog!"). _His eyes were blazing and his breath racing. He didn't really look much like Colonel Roy Mustang of the Amestris military, but Edward was suddenly hit with the nostalgic feeling of seeing his ex-commander in front of him.

The man suddenly stopped, his eyes becoming unsure. Edward snapped back out of his dazed gaze, locking eyes with him.

"I'm responsible."

After a bout of shocked silence, the man replied.

"W-what?"

"I said that I'm responsible. It's my fault."

Images of Al being killed by hollows flashed through his mind; he knew what it was like to lose a brother. Al had lost his body—and that was worse than death. It was painful to even think about.

"I was naive. I abandoned them... the hollows, I mean." A shaky breath left his mouth, his eyes suddenly glazed and distant. He wasn't supposed to be there. He was supposed to be out there, fighting—no, wait, _saving_—hollows from their inner demons. He wasn't supposed to be chatting up some bigoted shinigami that had forced their oppressive ways onto everyone and everything.

In that moment, they froze. His words were so shaky, so human. His eyes were not crazed. They were sad and told the shinigami that he deserved forgiveness even if he didn't want it. The angular curves of his face, the laugh lines that had worn away after being left unused for so long, the soft lips that spoke those condemning words, the eyes that spoke more than he did. He looked human. Yamamoto sighed, looking at the other shinigami for confirmation. Some of them, the ones with power rolling off them in waves, nodded solemnly.

"You will be put in an eight levelled seal until I convene with the Captains and Lieutenants about what to do with you."

Edward snorted, but nodded slowly. His golden hair blew off slightly to the side in the wind, but aside from that, nobody moved.

Then, Yamamoto stepped back, his hands outstretched and his palms facing outward in a pose built for Kido. He started to mumble some unintelligible words, a faint blue glow lighting up his body. After a short pause, Edward relaxed his body, sure that there was no need for him to brace himself. Yamamoto's eyes flashed and a ghost of a smirk twitched at his lips. A whip of fire darted out of his hands, wrapping around Edward. He choked back a scream, the fire seeping into his bones like acid. He found himself unable to move, only lock his jaw and grit his teeth in pain. The old man simply muttered a low, "_Seal One: Inoshishi._"

Edward almost laughed in relief as the rope of fire simply faded away. Edward knew that it wasn't _actually_ gone. He could feel the slightly burning reiatsu holding him captive. Yamamoto, stoic as ever, started the next seal's chant, Edward kneeling before him, having fallen to his knees after the first seal was applied. Electricity crackled in the air, making him shiver in anticipation. Without warning, the chanting stopped. Three blue bolts of lightning shot out of Yamamoto's hands, one hit each wrist, pinning him in a painful cross, and the last struck him through the abdomen. It left him choking on air and gasping in shock. Edward cried out as his body convulsed in electrical pain.

Yamamoto once again spoke with a, "_Seal Two: Inu._"

Edward gasped and grunted from the pain, but grinned weakly at them, his eyes blazing with determination. Yamamoto seemed to grimace with respect at the blatant show of fierce pride. Edward did not believe that the pain of the seals was right, but he understood the reasons why they couldn't let him go or leave him without restraints. He was an unknown factor in the middle of a war that could end them for good. He didn't have to like it, though, and he didn't. Yamamoto sighed, his sad eyes briefly meeting Edward's.

"I'm sorry, _boy_." He spoke with a stiff, unyielding tone. At least he had the decency to apologise for the past and the future. The statement was washed away by the next seal's enchantment, a secretive set of words that made him shiver in fear.

"It's alright, _old man_," Edward smirked. After the incantation had been uttered, Yamamoto fired eight silver arrows from his palms, one piercing each eye, two in each hand, and two in his stomach. The weird thing was that they weren't exactly solid; he felt the pain of them, but they slid and were absorbed into his skin, impairing his vision to blackness, numbing his hands, and freezing his torso so badly that it hurt to breathe. The old shinigami spoke yet again, "_Seal Three: Tori._"

Now Edward, unable to see or move, was lost to the endless pain that the next spell brought. He felt wet, like acid was suffocating him. The acidic seal's name was announced, "_Seal Four: Saru._"

One right after the other, the seals were applied.

"_Seal Five: Hitsuji._"

"_Seal Six: Uma."_

"_Seal Seven: Hebi._"

He couldn't hear the name of the last one, _Seal Eight: Tatsu_, because it took away his hearing as it was activated. He felt himself being wrapped in chains, the reiatsu that kept him warm being absorbed by it. He whimpered, knowing that they couldn't hear it. They picked him up, carrying him towards what he assumed was a courtroom or meeting area.

It was time to enact justice, apparently.

...

Winry rushed towards the nearest injured shinigami, her long blonde haired tucked into a pony tail. A rather busty girl was beside the man Winry had intended to heal, already starting to speak some sort of Kido to heal him. Her hair was a golden brown, almost orange, and her eyes were a warm gray. She had two blue flower clips in her hair, keeping her bangs to the side, and she was wearing a shinigami's outfit. She was obviously one of the Ryoka that had broken into the Seireitei. The man that she was about to heal was none other than Kuchiki Byakuya, an important noble and Taichou of the Sixth Division.

Winry, however much she wished she could leave the shinigami to the girl, had to intervene. It was not proper to allow her to heal Byakuya, and she could still pose a threat. So, with an efficient hand, she grasped the girl's turning her away from the bloody and torn up Captain. The girl's eyes widened.

"Ne, Miss, I can handle Byakuya-sama." Winry smiled warmly, if awkwardly, and knelt in front of Byakuya, her blue eyes twinkling. She assessed the damage, finding major cuts along his body, bruises, one broken clavicle, a broken scapula, several bruised/broken ribs, and six sprained fingers.

Orihime backed down, her eyes curiously watching Winry work. While most healers used various Kido to replenish the reiatsu of the injured, making healing easier, Winry's zanpakutou allowed her to physically repair the damage made to the person's body. That way she could heal the person until they were stable enough to repair the rest of the damage by themselves, naturally.

Winry drew her zanpakutou, the gleaming silver flashing in the light. "_I'll be waiting for you to come home,_ Yatagarasu!" The first part, Orihime noted, was in a different language, and the name of her zanpakutou was the three-legged-crow of Amaterasu. Her sword glowed white before disappearing entirely. Her reiatsu hugged each tiny microscopic-sized speck of metal, guiding the tiny robots into Byakuya's body.

They focused on getting his body to emit more healing chemicals, generating it at a faster rate than was normally possible. The rest of the bots held the cells together until the chemicals regenerated them. It was a fast process, but it took a large strain on her reiatsu and mind. Once the body was in no danger, the bots helped regenerate reiatsu. So she could use them to replenish her own stock once she was finished. She could usually heal ten people with her reiatsu, but after that, she was dry.

Her offensive capabilities were good too, but not as efficient. She needed to be prepared to utilise the other technique her zanpakutou, Yatagarasu, had. It was her secret weapon, her Bankai. She only ever used it to train or to prove her competence to her superiors. It wasn't nearly as strong as any of the Captains' Bankai, but it was good enough for her to be the third seat of the Fifth Division.

After about five minutes, Byakuya's harsh breathing subsided to a steady rhythm, and the worst of his wounds were almost healed, only vaguely resembling what they had once been.

"Wow, that's amazing!" Orihime complimented her, smiling nervously. A couple beads of sweat had formed on Winry's brow, but she simply smiled back at the girl.

"You have healing abilities?" Winry asked politely.

"Eh, I-I guess. I'm nothing special like you or Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime rambled on, a blush coating her cheeks. She mumbled some unintelligible things afterwards, feeling awkward.

"Gomen, gomen, my name is Winry Rockbell. I'm the third seat of the Fifth Division, and the Fourth Division, too. It's a rather weird arrangement." Winry laughed, making Orihime laugh too.

"I'm Inoue Orihime, a friend of Rukia-chan, and Kurosaki-san." Orihime smiled at the shinigami, obviously proud of her friends. Winry simply got up, moving to the next person that needed healing. A young orange haired boy looked at her with distrust, but stared at Orihime, who had followed her, with the opposite. They were friends, and this was the infamous Kurosaki Ichigo.

"You're a stupid boy." Winry told him, a calm smile on her face. It may have been the start of a war, but the healers were their backbones, and they needed to be reassuring. Ichigo merely scowled, watching with fascination as she activated the Shikai of her zanpakutou. It made him warm, and his body felt full of energy after the brief healing session. He wasn't even fully healed yet, but he felt like he's slept for a year.

"Thanks, I guess." He admitted, grudgingly.

"You're welcome, Kurosaki-san." Winry laughed, but said goodbye, leaving the rest of the healers to do the leftover work. There were some matters that needed tending to.

She summoned a hell butterfly, sending a message to both Yamamoto-soutaicho and Unohana-taichou.

"_I will be removing myself from the Fourth Division permanently to deal with the after-effects of Aizen's betrayal on the Fifth Division. Momo-chan will become Captain, I am sure, and as such, will be needing help with the division and healing. I will still offer my services to the Fourth Division whenever Unohana-taichou needs them. This will be effective immediately after you receive this. Thank you. Winry Rockbell._"

She grimaced at the formal tone, but dashed off to the division. It was horrible, what Aizen did to Momo. She had trusted him, loved him, and he'd used her. He'd thrown her away because he didn't need her anymore. It really sucked that Momo would have the responsibility of the Fifth Division after all that she'd been through regarding Aizen's betrayal.

As she reached Aizen's—no, wait, Momo's—office, the situation finally hit her. A couple tears leaked out of her eyes, frustration furrowing her brow. She focused on her reiatsu, making it regenerate faster. She was tired from the healing, and although she could've done more, it still made her more emotional. She sobbed, leaning against the wall inside the office, her tears freely falling. Aizen had been such a great mentor, and friend, so it hurt to know that it had all been a huge lie.

It hurt to know that their friendship had been a lie. It hurt to know that she'd been abandoned again. Although she hadn't loved him, they'd been good friends.

People always leave.

...

I'm sorry. I'm SO SORRY. I'm a horrible person. I haven't updated in forever. Wow, I suck.

Some things you might want to know:

_Yatagarasu – _The three legged crow in Japanese mythology that symbolises the sun. If seen, it means that there's divine interference in your life. I feel that bringing Winry and Edward together like this is divine interference, and so, that's the name of her zanpakutou.

I changed her to third seat because first and second are Captain and Lieutenant. But in the last chapter, it still says first seat, sorry.

This week, I'll try to get not one, not two, not three, but FOUR chapters! To make up for how long I've kept you waiting.


	8. Out of the Dust

Jeez, I can't believe how much positive feedback this is getting. Please read the author's note at the bottom.

I do not own anything.

"So, we need to decide what to do with the hollow, ne?" Shunsui asked them, his flower-covered haori rustling as he shifted. His long wavy brown hair was tied with a blue ribbon, and the shadow of a beard ran along his face. The womanising shinigami was solemn, his face taking on the role of a battle hardened Captain instead of the laid-back guy he usually was.

The other Captains merely nodded in agreement, steely gazes focusing on the hollow slumped over in the middle of the room. The chains wrapped around him made him look like a criminal, and his unseeing eyes staring straight ahead. It was eerie, the way he looked just like them. If they hadn't have seen his mask for themselves, they would've believed he was one of the Ryoka or a shinigami. It was weird, the way he could take his mask off and still consider himself to be a hollow. Or maybe, it was weird to him, how they _couldn't_ take their masks off. That was the whole mind-fuck of the matter. Was he truly the first hollow? And if so, how did it all work? Yamamoto had been alive for more than a thousand years, and yet, he'd grown old while the hollow hadn't.

It was mind boggling. The hollow was a threat, but all the shinigami were reluctant to convict him. They wanted to learn more about him. They were curious. The hollow was weird as well. Who would willingly give themselves to the shinigami for judgement when they were probably able to escape with ease? It hurt their brains to think about all the possible reasons and explanations as to why the shinigami was surrendering. Could it be to launch a surprise attack? Or was it to gain their trust? There were so many overwhelming possibilities...

"He is a threat, and must be dealt with accord—" Yamamoto declared, his hard eyes flashing with anger as he was cut off.

"He's a fucking kid! He's not some dangerous animal—"

"Aizen was a harmless looking man too, but look where he is—"

"That's different; the hollow's a nice kid—"

"_That's_ what we all thought of Aizen—"

"That's _enough_, you idiots! I've had enough of your incessant arguing! The Central 46 were slaughtered by Aizen; leaving it up to us to decide the fate of the hollow—if we can even call him that. So, shut your mouths and listen!" Yamamoto, the Soutaicho of the Gotei 13, locked gazes with each Captain, his eyes promising pain if they were disobedient. He let a considerable amount of reiatsu hit them, making their bodies stiff with the pressure of it. The shinigami all sighed with relief as the pressure was lifted, collective sweat-drops forming on their forehead at their leader's ruthlessness. They turned their attention back to the mysterious hollow. They'd have to start calling him something different. He wasn't really a hollow, after all.

"What do you propose we do, then? It's obvious that he's too rare to kill off, and most of us have mixed feelings on the subject." There was a collective mutter of agreements to this statement, eyes lighting up with interest at the sentence.

"You could send him to me for some, how do I say, _experiments_?" Mayuri, the Twelfth Division Taichou, exclaimed with glee. His face was painted like a skeletal clown, a wild look in his eyes. He laughed at the prospect of dissecting the hollow, but it came out as more of a giggle or cackle. He was the Wicked Witch of the Seireitei, except he was male (or was he?) and was not green (as far as they could tell). It brought him great joy to perform experiments on anything or anyone he could get a hold of.

While none of the other Captains wore makeup of had such a facial complexion, the others had just as many quirks. One had the face of a wolf, or perhaps a fox; previously, there was a blind Captain as well; and not to mention how one had an eye-patch and bells tied to the tips of his hair.

"I object to that, Kurotsuchi-taichou." Komamura Sajin, the anthropomorphic wolf, spoke softly. He had a heart of gold, and knew what it was like to be judged for his appearance. It had taken a long time to get Mayuri off his case. Being a wolf, it was hard to avoid the enthusiastic suggestions of experimenting on him. He had to prove how strong he was just to get him off his back—and even after that, Mayuri had a habit of bringing it up. It seemed like he couldn't find enough test subjects nowadays.

"'_It swelled our wallets / and our heads / beyond reason / but we all felt so useful, we didn't notice. / Such a sorrow doesn't come suddenly / there are a thousand steps to take before you get there. /_ _But now / sorrow climbs up our front steps / big as Texas, and we didn't even see it coming / even though it'd been making its way straight for us / all along.'_" Ukitake murmured the American poem, his long white hair shifting as he spoke. His kind brown eyes shifted to look at each face in the room. Some were looking at him, agreement in their eyes, while others were looking at him as if it were crazy to bring a poem into the decision of what to do with the creature. Maybe it was. They were just so confused by the whole idea.

Maybe it was just the idea of something unknown, or maybe it was the fact that the hollow, Nakazora, was powerful enough to not die in the presence of Aizen, but the shinigami were fascinated, scared, and reluctant to let go of the hollow. It was weird. A lot of things were weird, now that betrayals were flying here and there and new creatures were being discovered.

"I think we've come to the conclusion that we cannot simply dispose of him. Yet, just as well, we cannot simply set him free in Hueco Mundo, either." At this, they held their breath, waiting for the verdict. "I believe we need to set a guard of sorts to look after him. We'll send him on missions, and put him in a squad—temporarily, of course—and we'll observe him. If he proves to be plotting, to be trouble, we'll assassinate him immediately. What do you think?" Yamamoto looked around, his face stony and cold. The Captains looked at each other, the decision weighing their shoulders down.

"I concur." The first of them to speak was Ukitake, making the others look at him in astonishment. But, being a well respected member of the Gotei 13, they took his words with a nod, letting it affect their decisions too.

Almost immediately, a lazy Shunsui murmured an agreement.

Soifon started to speak, as if she was about to disagree, but she decidedly closed her mouth. After a couple of tense seconds, she declared her agreement strongly.

"I disagree." Mayuri replied; his manic grin disappearing as the others started to lean towards Yamamoto's proposition. It seemed as though he still wanted to experiment of the hollow.

"I also feel like it's a bad idea." Unohana spoke softly, her voice slightly unsure, yet calm. She felt like it was far too dangerous to let the hollow practically walk away, scot-free. He could injure a lot of shinigami before his guard got him under control.

Before long, it had been agreed upon. They negotiated the facts and details of his employment, and came up with a conclusion that they all favoured. Nakazora, the hollow, would reside within the Tenth Division, the reasons behind this being that Hitsugaya Toshiro could immobilise the hollow with his ice zanpakutou if need be. He'd be sent out on the same missions that Toshiro and his lieutenant, Rangiku, were sent on, if only because they couldn't handle him when they were off doing other things. He was to be restrained when sleeping, and watched at all times. Every week, a report needed to be filed, giving Yamamoto an idea of how trustworthy he was. After a while, if he was good, his restrictions would lighten up slightly, and would tighten if he acted out.

Toshiro, while being in the hospital, knew nothing of this, and needed to be informed as soon as possible. They were to relay the message to their lieutenants, and any Captains that were unable to be there due to injuries sustained in battle.

Until Toshiro was completely healed, the hollow would stay in the sealed form that he was currently in. In fact, until everybody was healed, Soul Society was almost at a standstill.

...

Ichigo looked around, aware of how out-of-place he was. He may have belonged in Soul Society, being a shinigami, but he was just as human as his friends. It showed, too. He got stares as he walked, everybody knowing the story of how he bested two of the strongest shinigami in the Seireitei, a handful of their subordinates, and all without actually being trained _in_ Soul Society. It kind of scared them, the fact that somebody could rise up from nothing and become so strong. Would more of them show up? What would happen if they did?

Ichigo's spiky orange hair shifted, his mind wandering to the hollow. What had happened to him? He had heard the screams of pain, even in his semi-conscious state, when they were sealing him. Nakazora seemed like the kind of hollow that could get along with shinigami, even if he would eat him if given the chance. It made him worried, the fact that Nakazora could be so _human_. He had strong ideals, for sure, and they actually seemed to be right.

"Kurosaki-san, I'd like you to meet Winry-chan!" a voice called out from behind him. He turned to stare at Orihime, one of his friends that he'd brought to rescue Rukia. She was fairly busty with light, almost orange-tinged brown hair, and sweet gray eyes. She clumsily ran up to him, dragging a woman that was probably somewhere between eighteen and twenty-three. The woman was fairly pretty, with a big bust—not nearly as big as Orihime's—and a slender body. She had light, close to white, blonde hair, with a pair of crystal blue eyes. She had stylish bangs cut to the side, and her hair was tied up in a pony-tail. Without it in, it probably would have fallen to her lower back, much like Yoruichi's hair.

She smiled warmly at him, her shinigami outfit blowing to the side in the wind. "Hello, Kurosaki-san. Anybody who can defeat Byakuya-sama must be fairly powerful. It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot from Renji-san, and Orihime-chan, here." Winry bowed slightly, having learnt the greeting over the number of years that she'd been a shinigami.

She was obviously foreign, but Ichigo couldn't detect a flaw in her accent. He blushed sheepishly at the comment, his gaze drawn to the side in embarrassment.

"Ah, it's really nothing. I only barely beat him, and it was more of a draw." She had the kanji for the Fifth Division on her sleeve, and he wondered how she was taking Aizen's betrayal. He guessed that it wasn't too well. "Did you hear about that hollow that everyone's talking about. It was amazing! His sword's even bigger than mine!" At this, they all pointedly looked at the rather large sword residing on his back. He sent another sheepish look at them, somehow still working even though his eyebrows were in their permanent scowl.

"No, I arrived after they had surrounded him. He's under their custody until tomorrow, when Hitsugaya-taichou gets out of the hospital. Speaking of hospitals, Kurosaki-san, do you have any problems? I know that you're able to move freely now, but if there're any problems, I can help." Winry smiled again, reassuringly.

"It's true, Kurosaki-san!" Orihime cried, her face lighting up. "I saw it, she's amazing! She healed Byakuya-san in a couple of minutes!" Ichigo turned to Winry, his eyes questioning why she was in the Fifth Division when she had healing powers that were obviously more suited for the Fourth Division.

"I transferred to the Fifth Division because I'm good friends with Momo-chan, and it'll be hard for her to take care of it by herself." Winry spoke, as if reading his mind. "You're awfully observant, though."

She sent a wry smile in his direction, and suddenly he felt as though he was talking to an older sister, or cousin, or something. She just gave off the feeling of family.

"We're good friends because I don't spend very much time with anybody else." Winry smiled at them, Orihime nodding enthusiastically at her idol.

"It's because you're foreign?" Ichigo asked, knowing all too well the troubles of being different. Winry grinned at him, a bit of sadness showing in her eyes. Ichigo simply nodded, showing that he knew what it was like. She wanted to cry. He reminded her of Edward, so, so much. It hurt. Every time he spoke, he said things that were just what how Edward would have said, and his facial expressions were similar too. Although they looked different (Ichigo's tall height being a big factor), they were really close to each other.

Ichigo caught her staring and seemed to give her a look that said "Do-I-have-something-on-my-face?" And she merely smiled sadly.

"You remind me of somebody I knew from before I died." Winry simply replied. It left Ichigo staring at her with shock, and Orihime gazing at her with sadness.

"I see." Ichigo could think of nothing else to say.

"So, how're your injuries?" Winry adeptly changed the subject, having grown good at it when she was alive.

Jeez, it was weird thinking of being dead. It had been a long time, and she still wasn't used to it. She still felt alive, but her depression wasn't nearly as suffocating. The way she'd died was horrific, but she got through it. She had finally gotten through it enough to function properly. She was glad too.

Depression was a nightmare she hoped she'd never live through again. It really hurt to have it invading every thought, every gesture, and every word to grace her lips. Edward had saved her from falling into her own grief, from the time that her parents died, to when she had to face the killers of them herself, and it had scarred her for life, not having him around.

So, having died, she'd expected to automatically see him, to embrace him in the ways that she'd never had the chance to before. She wanted to be his first kiss, and for him to be hers. She wanted to send him flying with the wrenches she kept handy, and she wanted them to be family again.

"They're fine. I really don't feel any pain. I have a couple bruises, but they're pretty much gone right now.

"I suppose you'll be heading back to Karakura town soon?" Winry smiled softly, her voice lilting up at the end as she asked the question. Her little lilt was very cute, and Orihime almost gushed at the twenty-one-year-old. Even though Winry was older, and far more experienced, the Ryoka girl found herself ready to squeal and coo over her like she was a newborn baby. And Winry had no idea why.

"Yes, we're heading out—" Ichigo started, his voice slightly excited. He was cut off as a cry of Winry's name sounded. They all looked around, their eyes landing in the direction that it came from. The man from earlier, the one that had yelled at the hollow was dashing towards them. Winry noticed how Ichigo's hands twitched towards his sword.

"Ah, it's you, Hideki-kun!" Winry called out, her eyes lighting up with friendliness. She had remained good friends with the man that had arrived in Soul Society at the same time as her. After his brother, Daisuke, was killed, they'd become closer. They had gone on a couple dates, but Winry hadn't felt comfortable with being more than friends and had broken it off.

Although Ichigo was rather inexperienced with those types of matters, he could clearly see the admiration and love Hideki had towards Winry. She, though, seemed to be oblivious and didn't show the same feelings. Ichigo felt bad for the guy, but didn't choose to comment on it. Orihime saw the same thing, and felt deep sympathy with Hideki, knowing what it was like to have unrequited love. Winry gave him a hug, and the two Ryoka noticed how his hands seemed to linger on her longer than necessary.

"I was looking for you all over the place! I got to meet that hollow, you know? He was mind-boggling. Every sentence was perfectly constructed to make him out to be the victim, and us to be the enemy! His intelligence is at least on par to Kurotsuchi Mayuri, I can tell! Wow, he's sure going to be a handful for Hitsugaya-taichou." Hideki spoke enthusiastically, his eyes widening and his voice changing its pitch as he spoke. His facial expressions changed so much that it was almost comical.

The hollow was the newest gossip for everybody, almost taking priority above Aizen's betrayal. With all the things that were happening, they had enough gossip to last them for the next century or so.

"Are you serious? That's amazing! I can't believe that somebody can match him! I doubt that Hitsugaya-taichou was happy to hear that he was assigned for babysitting, no matter how important this is." Winry replied slyly, her knowledge of the up-tight Captain showing through.

"I bet he wasn't!" Hideki roared with laughter, and Ichigo shared a look with Orihime. It was almost like Hideki was laughing _too_ hard.

"This is Hideki." Winry introduced him. "We're in the Fifth Division together..." Hideki nodded at them, smiling. He seemed to linger on Ichigo a little bit longer, sizing him up, as if he were a threat.

"Eh, I'm Kurosaki Ichigo, and this is Inoue Orihime." They both gave him a nod, Orihime smiling while Ichigo scowled.

"It's nice to meet you..."

...

Wow. That was hard. I have the other three promised chapters done, but they're kind of rough, so I'm going to go through and edit it over the next three days. So they should be all posted by Wednesday.

Dang that was rough. I'm so tired from Friday. I went canoeing the whole day with my class, and we canoed thirteen miles or so. And I've been tired from volleyball practices. (I hope I'm Captain this year!) So, yeah...You guys were all sceptical of my ability to get them done, weren't you!

I forgot to mention last chapter what the Japanese seals were. It's the Japanese/Chinese zodiac. I thought it fit because in Naruto, the ANBU masks are all modelled after the zodiac too. Just a little bit of insight onto that. And it's got eight seals to it because any farther would leave him immobilised for a year, or even longer. So the ninth seal and above are fairly dangerous.

Review if you like. I'm amazed at how much you guys like this! It makes me so happy.


	9. Broken and Tainted

I do not own anything.

"Edward Elric, sir?" Footsteps echoed on the tiled floor, each thud sending a small vibration along the surface. Clean and crisp blue uniforms swished as sinewy muscles contracted, the wonder that was the human body moving expertly. Each person that wandered the halls was professional, and most were deadly members of the military. Mid-afternoon light streamed through the windows lining the white corridor, casting shadows that chased each person. A pair of men met in the middle of the hallway, their eyes meeting immediately.

The first, and shorter of the two, had long golden hair that was tied back into a high pony-tail, ending mid-back. His eyes were fierce and sharp, and he wore a square jaw with sharply defined facial features. Even beneath the thick uniform, his lithe muscles were visible, and he moved gracefully, like a killer. He was somewhere between sixteen and twenty, but probably directly in the middle. His eyes carried a deep knowledge of things that a great many people, even those in the military, had not seen for themselves.

The second man was older, somewhere in his mid-twenties, and was fairly tall, at around five-eleven, or six feet tall. He was obvious lower ranked, missing the official badge that proclaimed the other's rank, and a few other awards for his efforts in the coup d'état. He had a shortly cropped head of black hair, with similar black eyes, much like how the blonde's superior officer looked. He was fairly lanky, with a straight posture, and stiff personality. He was clearly just a lackey; one that was used for fetching and delivering messages a little too much, as was revealed by the bored and slightly aggravated look on his face.

He had been the one that had spoken, although he knew—just by sight alone—that the man was the famous Fullmetal Alchemist, the Hero of the People, and an all-around great guy. Although Edward had a serious face on, it was more because he was pissed off at the superior officer that had called him in. Edward nodded at the man, watching as he spun on his heel and started back towards the office that he had emerged from.

Edward followed after him, not having to weave through the crowd. They parted for him out of respect, and everyone parted like that for all the other members that were publicly recognised as helpers in the coupe d'état as well. The man that led Edward towards Roy Mustang's office was named Leroy Ferguson. Leroy hated his job in the military almost as much as he hated having to convey messages for Roy Mustang, the stupid that seemed to have nothing better to do than talk on the phone with sleazy girlfriends.

Edward knocked on the door, finally having started to use proper etiquette after all the years of broken down doors.

A sharp voice answered, "Come in."

Edward turned the knob, shooing away the messenger with a nonchalant wave of the hand. He hadn't even really needed an escort—he knew the place better than Leroy, anyways.

"Brigadier General Mustang." Edward greeted him stiffly, his teeth gritting against each other in anger.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting, Fullmetal?" The silky voice replied. He had spiky black hair, staying perfectly together as if he had hair gel in, and dark-as-coal eyes. They showed a witty intelligence, and a smirk permanently graced his lips.

"You know fucking well that you're the one who called me in here," and for good measure he added the customary, "... bastard."

The other people in the office shared an exasperated look at the regular conversation that the two had almost daily.

"Oh, now I remember... Yes, I believe... here it is... Mmm hmm, yes, there we go..." The Flame Alchemist spoke to himself, sifting through the stacks of files and paperwork on his desk, eyes lighting up with happiness a she grasped the right folder. The others in the room smiled at the impatient look on Edward's face, the same look that he'd gotten used to wearing during his younger years. He'd gotten so used to anger that it ruled his face, even when he was simply annoyed. But, they all knew, he was truly a kind person, one that would walk an elderly grandmother across the street and walk with her groceries, even if she lived in the next town over.

Roy smirked behind the file, his eyes flashing with mirth. Edward shared a secretive smirk with his reflection, knowing that their playful banter showed how close their relationship was. He could pick on Edward, when he had nothing left in the world, and tears filled his vision, but those insults were the exact words that Edward needed to hear, every time, and it made a difference. It shook him from depressions that otherwise would have drove him off the edge. Al, having been traveling with his newly found girlfriend, May Chang, and so Edward had been feeling lonely and rejected (spending his time whining that Al had ditched him more often than not).

"I need you to go investigate a man who's been suspected of kidnapping seven people over the past two years. Just check out his house with a group of officers, and check the lab in his basement for evidence. We have a warrant for his arrest, and a search too, so no worries about the law. We'll come to check on you in a couple hours. I have a meeting with Fuhrer Grumman, so I can't come right away." Roy relayed the important things from the file before passing it to Fullmetal. The man skimmed the text over, his eyes lighting up with interest at the man being an alchemist, but darkening with the suspected activities he was performing. He was suspected of both performing human transmutation and creating chimeras. It made Edward sick to think about it.

"Fucking bastard..." Edward murmured with his eyes downcast from the pain of remembering Nina and Tucker.

"Go head over there in an hour. That's plenty of time to stock up on ammo." Roy replied, his eyes softening at the pain that Edward obviously felt. Having lost his alchemy—a fact that still made Edward cringe—he had to use guns and knives as weapons. He had kept his body in peek physical condition, but it was still more dangerous when he couldn't use his surrounding area as a weapon or shield. Alchemy was something that he really did miss.

"I see." Edward murmured. "I'll see you later, then." Edward saluted, marching briskly out of the office and back down the corridor, nodding at Leroy and the other familiar faces that he encountered on his way out of the military's head office in Central.

...

It was nightfall by the time they arrived at the mansion on the outskirts of town. Edward, along with four other men (and one female), made up the raid-team. They were to be extremely cautious, as the man was an alchemical genius, much like Edward, but far more screwed up. Edward specifically told them how messed an alchemist's mind could get, and how messed up his mind already was. They took every word he said with awe, amazed that they had the chance to work with _the_ Fullmetal Alchemist.

The leader was Edward, codenamed Fullmetal. He was one of their strategists, and best hand-to-hand fighter.

The second-in-command was an older man named Wendell. He was thirty two with almost white-blonde hair and blue eyes, much like Winry's complexion. He took care of the sharp shooting.

The next in line was Richard, a black haired, green eyed man with thick, red square glasses. He was the technology and communications member of the group, at twenty-two years old.

After that was Timothy, a messy redhead with blue eyes. He was twenty-seven and was a strategy specialist.

The only female, Tara, had mousy brown hair that was pulled into a tight military bun. She was twenty-four, and a weapons specialist.

The last, Ben, was the medic. He had dark blonde hair, like Alphonse, and warm brown eyes. He was shy, but was serious when it came to his job. He was the youngest, besides Edward, at twenty years old.

They had all worked with each other for the majority of their career in the military, and were well-known in their station for their high success rate. They failed missions rarely. Roy Mustang had chosen them because they were relatively laid back, which suited Edward the most. Edward was one to lash out at uptight military pricks. He hated the fact that some people tried to make themselves military robots, and was against conforming to that idealism. Edward also encouraged fighting with superior officers, blowing random objects up, chasing after serial killers, beating up people you find unsatisfactory, and making up your own rules. All those things were the reason why he'd never been asked to teach any recruits. Everybody had to shiver thinking of what Edward would do to the poor kid he decided to project his ideals onto.

"Damn, boss, you got some serious look on yer face." Wendell spoke, his accent showing through as he chewed on the cliché toothpick. He seriously admired the man that had been a huge part of the coupe d'état, and the man that had taken down an immortal man, although both were the same. He also found it amazing that he'd brought his brother back to life (news traveled _real_ fast, no matter how hush, hush it was supposed to be).

"Eh, just thinking about this bastard," Edward replied with a quick grin. He was nineteen, and loving it. It had been three years since the famous—and infamous—coupe d'état.

"So, just to make sure, boss, we'll go Formation C, take a sweep of the upper floors, and apprehend the man first before heading downstairs to the basement?" Timothy questioned, going over the strategy once again, not only to confirm it for himself, but to let the others know what they were supposed to be doing.

"Yes." Edward replied curtly. "Let me go in first when we enter the basement, and Wendell, you back me up, alright?" The others nodded in agreement, seeing the logic.

After a quick check of everything (or rather, a triple check), they hooked up their communication devices, including a radio and a tracking unit, letting Richard stay behind to man the equipment.

They moved silently through the undergrowth, moonlight casting a faint glow to everything. Edward and Tara were paired up, while Timothy and Ben wandered off together. They took the back entrance, while Edward and Tara took the front, leaving Wendell to climb the tree beside the house. He climbed up easily, sliding into the open window with ease. Edward and Tara cleared the first floor while Timothy and Ben cleared the back entrance and made their way up to meet with Wendell. They exchanged a curt nod, signalling that it was all clear, and Wendell silently got into a sniper position that would allow him to hit somebody coming down the stairs from the second story or up the stairs from the basement. Ben stayed behind to guard the front and back doors, not to mention Wendell while he was preoccupied.

Edward, Tara, and Timothy exchanged signals, deciding that it was better to keep Wendell in a sniper position that could back them up as they went to the basement. Edward went to double check the first floor, bringing Tara and Timothy with him.

After Ben heard a noise from upstairs, he motioned for Wendell to keep himself aware. Wendell nodded, motioning for Ben to hurry and check it out. After a few minutes, Ben came back, his back clothes looking eerie. He stopped as he came to the top of the stairs, staring wide eyed and crazed at Wendell. Wendell looked at him in surprise ad Ben unsheathed his knife. Staring straight at Wendell, he lifted his hand to chuck it.

All of Wendell's training had prepared him for this, so with precision, he fired a quick succession of bullets at Ben, hitting vital points and killing him instantly.

Wendell watched with horror as the knife sailed at him. But wait, it sailed _over _him, squelching into the flesh of something—someone—behind him. He screamed as he turned, realising that Ben had been aiming at a man that had been about to kill him.

Tara rushed towards him, not seeing the body that had fallen through the doorway behind Wendell, and into the kitchen. Wendell's eyes were wide with a crazed horror, blood on his face, and sweat drenching his forehead. Tara, immediately saw the body that had tumbled down the stairs. Wendell raised his hand, about to shakily explain, when a round of bullets sailed into his chest. He had been holding up the gun and Tara had thought he was a threat.

She seemed shocked herself, and started shaking, her hand holding the gun still in a position to shoot. She turned around as she heard Timothy and Edward coming. Timothy cried out in astonishment, seeing the bodies and the gun pointed at them. A rain of bullets hit her, making her fly backwards, adding to the already deep pool of blood that was soaking through the floorboards.

Timothy, in turn, went into shock, his eyes widening and sobs shuddering down his body. There was bloody everywhere, splattered on the walls, on the corpses, on Timothy and Edward.

It was like a nightmare. The house itself was old and not taken care of. The man probably lived in the laboratory/basement that they hadn't checked out yet. Wendell, half blind, and half dead, fired shots out randomly, his hand grasping the trigger purely by accident as he convulsed. Three bullets hit Edward, one in the thigh and two in his left arm. The rest all hit Timothy. Edward had dodged most of them, but Timothy hadn't been trained to anticipate bullets and such, so he'd been hit head on, dropping dead right away. And with a shuddering breath, so was Wendell.

Edward gasped, shaking. The bullets hurt like hell, and it was his entire fault. He shouldn't have brought such a new team with him. They may have worked well together, but they were new, mistrustful with a new person in the team, and were not used to being tricked.

The basement door was open, and a cackle echoed. A man disappeared from view, and without thinking, Edward dashed down the stairs after him. He slipped and slid on the blood that coated the bottom of his shoe, tears leaking down his face. He grasped his arm, limping after the man. He arrived in the basement, his gaze full of disgust.

Moans of pain came from cages with blood soaked floors and chimeras clawing at the bars. Mutated humans hung chained to the walls, their heads hung in pain and shame. Some were dead, and some were twitching with the pain. One's stomach had literally been transmuted to stay outside of his body, hanging like a tumour, while others had their mouths transmuted closed and their eyes stabbed with needles. He threw up; vomit hitting the floor and mixing in a sea of blood. Diagrams of the human body and transmutation circles littered the walls.

A large transmutation circle was etched onto the floor with blood, and Edward tried to piece together was it was supposed to mean. He didn't realise until it was too late that the man had snuck up behind him and whacked him on the back of the head. He lost consciousness rather quickly.

...

He awoke to a splash of water on his face.

The man backhanded him, and Edward felt a bruise start to form. He hoped that he'd live to see it turn purple. The man turned away, waltzing to the edge of the circle. He placed both hands on the edge, the grimy concrete ground pressed against Edward's cheek.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH," Edward cried out as the man activated the array. Edward slowly felt his molecules being torn apart, the pain of it being so great that he couldn't even describe it to himself. He screamed out as he felt himself come back to life, the molecules coming back together.

Somehow, Edward thought with wonder and disgust, the man had found an array that stopped at the deconstruction phase, and then continued to the reconstruction phase after a slight pause, but kept the person entirely the same. It was incredible, and Edward somehow felt that he was the first subject that it had been used on successfully, despite the others hanging on the walls. And despite being able to bring him back to life, he knew that he would die in a couple minutes anyway. It kept him alive for a couple minutes, and then he'd die.

Then, the man activated it again, and he screamed out even louder. It was a split second deconstruction, but putting the pain of being deconstructed, and being reconstructed, it hurt worse than automail surgery.

He coughed up blood, convulsing on the floor, as time after time, the man activated the array, torturing the widely known Fullmetal Alchemist. Edward sobbed, shuddering on the floor. It hurt so much, so, _so_ much.

With a start, he opened his eyes, and came face-to-face with a pair of teal ones.

...

Damn. O.o That was hard. A little tiny bit shorter than usual, but I wanted to end it there.

I hope Edward's death makes sense. I also hope that you weren't bored with it...

Review if you like!


	10. Tell Me What To Do

Hell yeah! You guys are so lucky!

I do not own anything.

A set of turquoise eyes stared at him, meeting his own golden pools with a cold gaze. The man—no, _boy_—was wearing the traditional shinigami garb, with a white haori sitting over top. Suddenly, Edward was struck that the boy was a Captain. And at the same age as when he'd joined the military, roughly. He had a head of spiky snow white hair that stood up like ice. He was pale, with a child-like face, and just as short, or shorter, than Edward had been when he was about that age. He was suddenly struck, yet again, with how _young_ the Captain was.

"_You're_ a Captain?" And, just like Edward would have done, the boy bristled. The absolute incredibility in his voice was probably the reason why the Captain took so much offense to the question.

The blonde hollow, still chained up, obliviously ignored the small growl emanating from the boy. Hitsugaya Toshiro was not one that most would ignore like that. Only other Captains, and sometimes their lieutenants, would ever do something so shamelessly, and that irritated him to no end.

He wasn't going to let the stupid creature behave like that. He was a prisoner, and as such, had no authority in that situation. Hitsugaya had been briefed, entirely, about the assignment, and at first had been extremely angry that he'd been stuck with babysitting the stupid hollow that had charged Soul Society with no reason, at all. But then—having had quite a while to think about while he was suspended to the hospital—he decided that it was a great honour as well. It showed that they trusted him far above the others, and that he was responsible enough to perform it to the best of his ability.

Having died at the age of eight, his appearance hadn't shifted much. In the hundred years since then, he'd grown to about the size of a thirteen-year-old boy. The older you were when you died, the slower the age process occurred. It could take several centuries to age a year if you died above the age of twenty five. The younger you were, the faster the age process, but it slowed down as you reached your mid twenties. Toshiro had been pleased that he'd grown a full five inches since he'd died, and expected to grown a lot more before his aging slowed down.

The hollow, Nakazora, was gazing at him intently, a weird and unfamiliar look flashing through his eyes every couple seconds. It was almost as if the hollow was remembering something, and that something made him feel sympathy, or empathy, with Toshiro. It was a queer thing, the eyes of the hollow. They were the most beautiful colour that Toshiro had even seen, and he almost found himself getting lost in them. They were a mesmerising thing, one that was dangerous. Was there a special significance to the weird colour that almost matched his hair? The blonde's hair was a few shades darker than his eyes, and braided. It was probably long enough to reach his mid-back, if he let it down loosely.

"I'm Nakazora," he offered helpfully, though his eyes told that he already suspected that Toshiro knew this.

"I'm Hitsugaya Toshiro, Taichou of the Ten Division. I'll be... _looking after_ you..." Hitsugaya replied, his face back in its guarded mask. The hollow seemed to ponder this, looking him up and down.

"How old were you when you died?" He whispered, a fierce curiosity burning in his veins.

Toshiro took great offense in this question, regarding it as a private and personal matter that few people knew the answer to. He hated that the creature thought he could simply saunter up and take charge.

Silently, he ignored the question and passed along a manila folder. Edward's eyes lit up with recognition, and Hitsugaya wondered briefly if he'd already been informed. But that was ridiculous, as he'd been sealed up until an hour ago. "These are the guidelines as to your imprisonment, and the circumstances. You are not to disobey the rules." The shinigami replied coldly, observing Nakazora's reaction.

The hollow simply gave an amused smile at the papers, completely absorbed in how similar it was to the military's style of orders back home. _Home_... That was something that he hadn't thought of in a long time. He wondered how Winry, Al, May, Pinako, and the others were. They'd be reprimanding him, if they were there—telling him that he was stupid to have barged in with his guns blazing (figuratively, of course). Toshiro noticed that the alchemist's eyes glazed over a little as he read, but dismissed it as it probably being due to his own stupidity. The hollow probably didn't understand a couple words.

"Are you finished?" another brisk and icy tone followed up the last one, and Edward smiled sadly, nodding. Turning slightly to the side and blinking away the building tears, he addressed the shinigami.

"I have a question, Hitsugaya." Toshiro was mildly pleased. The hollow had at least called him properly (even if he did miss the suffix).

"Hmm," Toshiro nodded, for him to continue. He was getting impatient, ready to get out of the small hospital room. They were in his room, having been waiting for the hollow to wake up from an obviously bad dream—if the sweat still shining from his forehead was any indication.

"Can I get a change of clothes? It would be preferable if it was something in this same style." The all white trench coat and pants he wore weren't exactly the norm, however—an unusual combo, indeed.

"I see..." Hitsugaya paused. "I suppose I can agree to that, hollow."

"Please, I prefer Nakazora." Edward replied, just as fast.

Toshiro nodded, having come to a grudging standstill in their limited conversation topic. He strongly told the hollow to follow him after he removed the reiatsu chains that were holding him captive. Edward followed obediently, secretly seething that he was inducted into yet _another_ military, this time one that had ulterior motives for keeping him alive, he was sure. Edward followed briskly, ignoring the various looks that were sent his way as they walked through the hallways of the hospital. Many were fear-filled gazes, ones that sent shivers of sadness down his spine. Nonetheless, they passed out of the pristine halls rather quickly, Edward matching every one of Toshiro strides with ease. After unlocking the secret to speed, he actually found it harder to keep slow. The secret had been burned into his instincts.

"It must have been hard to become a Captain," Edward commented after a long moment of uncomfortable silence.

After a short pause, Toshiro nodded, reluctantly. "Yes, but I am considered a prodigy, a genius. It was expected, after having graduated from the academy earlier than everybody else."

Edward merely nodded, agreeing with what was said. He knew only too much about expectations. A lot of people back home had expected him to become the second-in-command after Mustang became Fuhrer. It made him wonder if Mustang was their leader yet. Toshiro reminded him of Mustang, in a weird way. They were polar opposites, but he detected some sort of feeling that they both gave off.

Edward tuned back into his surroundings. "I was considered a prodigy when I was alive. A lot of people thought I could do anything. I couldn't live up to it." Edward got that sad tone that Toshiro recognised from before. It was rare that you got snippets of the past from the hollow. It struck Toshiro, ever the genius, that it would have been impossible for such things to be true. Nakazora was over a million years old. Civilisations didn't work back then. Or at least they didn't according to the Shinigami Academy.

"He got too close to the sun, and was struck down by his own arrogance. Hmm, what was that story called again?" Edward murmured to himself, his eyes focusing on the surroundings as they marched through the streets of the Seireitei. Toshiro knew, just by his tone, that the hollow thought that he was the equivalent to the arrogant fool in that story.

It left a lot to ponder, on Toshiro's part. After a few more streets, they reached the barracks for the Tenth Division, stopping as a woman rushed directly out of the doors, brushing drool from the side of her mouth. She had long coppery blonde hair that sat on her shoulders in curls and waves, with a pair of breasts that were too big for her already form-fitting uniform. They were the biggest that Edward had even seen, and his eyes widened in shock at the rambunctious woman. She was fairly curvy with a beauty mark under the right side of her pouty mouth. Her eyes were blue, like Winry's, and she paused as she noticed them.

"Ne, ne, Taichou, I fell asleep and forgot to come with you to pick up that ho—" She paused, taking in Edward and his obviously attractive body. Matsumoto purred, her eyes strolling up and down his body. "Nobody said he was this... _sexy_." Edward gulped, taking a wary step back as Matsumoto stepped forward to inspect him a little better.

"I'd appreciate it, and I think he would, too, if you didn't molest our new charge." Hitsugaya spoke up from off to the side, almost amused by the whole exchange. So it seemed like the hollow wasn't used to members of the opposite sex.

"But, Taichou~," she whined, squishing the little boy into her bosom. He struggled, trying to pry her away by using his feet and hands, but ultimately had to wait until she was finished suffocating him.

Edward had felt his face slowly go red from the awkward scene. It was embarrassing, seeing that obviously inappropriate position. He looked away, scratching his neck uncomfortably until Rangiku picked up on the tension, letting go of her Captain. She saddled up to Edward, swinging an arm around his shoulders, which pushed the side of her breast onto his arm, making him even more uncomfortable. The only women he really hung around much had been his mother, who was dead; Winry, who he was in love with; Pinako, who was too old to be even considered much of a woman; and Riza, who was more like a sister or mother to him anyways. He had not felt this awkward since the office has gotten so drunk that they'd made out with each other. And none of them were gay at all, so they'd been pretty intoxicated.

Hitsugaya heaved a big sighed, introducing them uneasily. Edward merely nodded while Rangiku kept saying his name in different ways, as if she was testing it out. Edward laughed as she said it in a particularly funny voice, the middle-toned sound startling both of them. Toshiro wondered how he managed it; staying sane. He'd been alive for over a million years—probably ten times that—without anybody to talk to besides bloodthirsty hollows. It took a massive amount of determination to keep sane while living as a shinigami for a couple centuries, let alone that long.

Rangiku, however, was thinking how nice it sounded, like going to a party, getting drunk, and simply laughing with her friends until their sides hurt—that was what it made her feel like. She wondered how he could have become a hollow and still retained the light that shone around him.

She laughed heartily with him, having decided to embrace the weird character that chose to call himself such a name as Nakazora. Edward liked her. She was a bit outrageous, but funny. And she was rebellious too. It spoke to him, finding somebody that reminded him of home in a not so painful way. There were a lot of people that he found reminiscent of Amestris, of _home_. It made him want to cry, thinking about all the people that had thought he'd get married to Winry, have kids of his own, and settle down. They all thought that he'd outlive them by a long shot. God wasn't cruel enough to take him away from life early after all he'd been through, they said. Edward couldn't possibly die of anything other than old age, they thought. But they were wrong.

And he had died. He had lost everything, everyone, and himself too. Somewhere along the road to this point, he'd encountered a new him, one that took everything he had for granted no more, one that recognised a miracle when he saw it. He wasn't alright, by a long shot, but he hoped that he'd started to mend that hollow feeling that he had in the pit of his stomach.

"This is my office," Toshiro spoke, cutting through Edward's thoughts. "You'll be spending a lot of time in here." Hitsugaya smirked, ready to taunt the sulking Matsumoto. But, he needed to stay professional, so he refrained from teasing her. "Lucky for you, only Matsumoto and I have paperwork." Matsumoto whined loudly at that remark, complaining that she was too popular to do paperwork. Her drinking buddies _needed_ her.

"Shut up, Matsumoto." Rangiku pouted, turning to grin at Edward in a sly manner.

"Want to play cards?" she ignored Hitsugaya's protests that she had to do her paperwork, grinning at Edward.

The alchemist, being bored himself, agreed immediately. While they started, Toshiro sent a hell butterfly to a subordinate, requesting some non-shinigami clothing, preferably white. He tried to concentrate on the papers in front of him, a brush poised in his hands, but his gazes was draw to the card game, where they were evenly matched. While Edward had an excellent poker face, one that would win against almost anyone, Rangiku was a master of cheating. She dodged around his traps, having played with Urahara Kisuke a couple times before he went rogue. So, by the end, they'd somehow ended up with a tie. It was a really hard thing to accomplish, Toshiro suspected, by the faces that they sported. Almost as if it was timed deliberately, the lower subordinate shinigami came in with an armful of white clothes.

He was dismissed almost immediately, scrambling to go tell his friend that he'd seen the hollow playing poker with Matsumoto Rangiku, the sexiest shinigami in the whole of Soul Society.

Toshiro motioned to the bathroom behind his desk, where there was a shower—and a lock, in case Matsumoto got curious, which she did from time to time—leaving Edward to scramble into the room and slam the bolt down. He was glad to have a chance to shower—Hueco Mundo wasn't exactly known for its indoor plumbing systems.

He quickly stripped, noticing the bloodstains on the white clothes, and the rips too. He threw them in a heap on the floor, setting his boots aside for afterwards. He looked at himself in the mirror, sighing in relief that he was only mildly bruised from his earlier exploits. His muscles were rather lean and moved lithely, something that he still found fascinating about anatomy. He grasped the soap from the counter beside the sink, and turned the water to almost scalding hot. He stepped in the beam of water, sighing in bliss as it washed away the grime and dirt that had been bothering him for such a long time. He growled in relief, smiling as he scrubbed away.

It pounded down on him, and for a while, he just stood there, basking in it, wanting to stay there forever. After a while, he stepped out of the shower, gingerly picking up a towel and drying himself off before draping it around his waist. He grimaced slightly as he looked through the clothes before settling on a gray trench coat, white pair of slacks, and white shirt. He slid into his combat boots, stretching and yawning. It felt good to be in something fresh, but he grabbed his old clothes and made himself remember to ask Toshiro if he could get them cleaned and repaired.

He returned to find Toshiro busy with his paperwork, and Matsumoto sleeping on the couch. He nodded at Toshiro, not noticing how the shinigami amusedly watched him braid his hair with ease. It had gotten a lot longer since he'd been alive, but he had not let it go past his mid-back.

"I suppose you had a good time?" Toshiro asked after a short pause.

A grin met his question head on.

...

"We're going to the human world today for an undetermined amount of time, so behave, Nakazora." Toshiro reminded the hollow, having become much more relaxed with him. He didn't trust him, but he didn't think he was much of a threat either. They had learned that he had a strict set of morals that he'd do anything to uphold.

"Ne, ne, I know..." Edward replied, giving an absentminded 'shoo, shoo' hand gesture. Toshiro simply rolled his eyes and motioned for Rangiku to gather anything that they'd need. They weren't joining up with the others that were going right away, due to the fact that Nakazora was having his first trip into the human world, and might be a danger if he suddenly found that he wanted to attack innocent souls/humans. Edward merely scoffed at the accusations and told them that eating souls is something that only the lowest of the low do.

If you're experienced enough, they offer themselves to you, and you absorb their energy, effectively sending them to the gates of Soul Society. It only absorbs the energy that keeps them from being light enough to pass through the walls separating the dimensions, and leaves just enough to get them to Soul Society. Once they reach the other dimension, they regain their health rapidly.

Rangiku returned, grinning. She and Edward were buddies, and Edward often lost against her in drinking contests, both of them aiming to see who could annoy Toshiro the most. Edward won almost half of the time, but Rangiku had had a long time to become good at annoying him.

They would be going undercover as students in a high school where that weird substitute shinigami, Kurosaki Ichigo or something, went. Edward wasn't looking forward to going back to school. He'd escaped it when he was younger and was reluctant to bore himself even more.

They were going first, to make sure that Edward didn't have any problems, and then the others would arrive the next day. There was one girl from the Fifth Division, two guys from the Eleventh Division, one girl from the Thirteenth Division, and one guy from the Sixth Division.

Edward was looking forward to some serious action. He was craving it.

He had a weird feeling, though. Like something unusual and unexpected was going to happen.

...

OH WOW! That was hard. I spent the whole afternoon doing that :'( Now I have to stay up until two am to read one of my novels (I've been neglecting it because I'm so loyal to you guys).

I don't know if I explained it in chapter eight, but the poem there is from the book "Out of the Dust" by Karen Hesse. It's called the Path of Our Sorrow. I love that poem, it's my favourite. I just used my favourite parts of the poem, the parts that suited the situation, so go read the poem.

Look out for the next chapter, tomorrow. And then I'll be free to not update for another two months, ne?

Review if you like, please.


	11. You're Such A Gorgeous Nightmare

Lots of EdWin in here, just so you know. And they finally meet!

I do not own anything.

"Holy shit," Edward cried, staring around in amazement. It struck the two shinigami that Edward had probably never seen anything like that. They were just outside of Urahara's shop, having traveled there from Soul Society. Edward stared at the buildings and cars, all much different than when he'd been alive. He spun in a slow circle, feeling like he had when he'd first ventured out of the small town of Risembool as a child. But this time, Al wasn't there to keep him company.

Hitsugaya Toshiro, the Tenth Division Taichou, looked at the small shop, heaving a sigh. He had not expected that Soul Society would send them there, but it was reasonable. Urahara wasn't exactly a traitor to them anymore, and he was the only shinigami that actually _lived_ in Karakura town.

Rangiku was excited, nearly bursting with joy. She swung an arm around Edward's shoulder, laughing. Together, they followed Toshiro into the shop. Although Rangiku acknowledged Edward's charms, she wasn't attracted to him. She'd always have a small part of her reserved for Ichimaru Gin. It hurt a little that he'd betrayed Soul Society, but it hurt more that he'd betrayed her. It wasn't like him to be like that. And Gin had always been one of those secretly kind-hearted people.

"Hello~," a cheerful voice called out, startling the shinigami. Urahara had been expecting them, then. The blonde man with a stubbly beard emerged from the back room, a green striped hat and wooden shoes showing his eccentric tendencies. Edward immediately sensed the intelligence inside him. He related to that, and knew that the man was thinking the same of him. They locked eyes, giving each other an almost imperceptible nod, only noticed by the intended other. Edward sent a grin at him, bowing slightly.

"I am Nakazora, the Hollow Alchemist, at your service." Urahara seemed to light up in interest. Having been told about the previous Twelfth Division Captain (and the current), he knew that the man was incredibly smart. The man hid his smirk behind a fan, sizing up the power of the hollow. Edward reigned in his reiatsu so that it was undetectable, smirking back at the man, whose eyes creased in a smile.

Urahara seemed to understand that the hollow part of his name was not referring to his species, but to some other emotional thing. Urahara had heard about the hollow as well. He was quite famous in both Soul Society, and with the spiritually aware humans. It seemed as if he was an enigma. Edward would have vehemently denied such accusations. He was not the kind of person that deserved it, and he would rather die than have others look up to him. It happened nonetheless, in a weird, indirect way. They didn't realise it themselves how much they admired him.

"Ne, ne, there's no need to be formal. You know my name, I believe, but for etiquette's sake, I am Urahara Kisuke." He spoke lazily with his low voice, directing them around the small shop. He pointed things out, and showed them the room they'd be sleeping in until the others arrived. Then they'd be kicked out.

Edward was wearing the same outfit as when he'd first woken up, minus the tears, dirt, and blood. Urahara introduced them to a man called Tessai, and two young kids that he couldn't remember the names of.

Urahara was definitely a weird man. It kind of made him mad that he couldn't figure him out. It was easier with the other members of Soul Society, but the rogue shinigami was completely different. He was good at hiding himself. He did, however, give off a playful and joking aura. It was easier to understand him that way. They decided to retire for the night after Edward started to complain about his legs being tired. Toshiro merely gave him a disbelieving stare, but nodded. They'd rolled out the futons onto the floor, squished closely together due to the small room.

He had a sneaking suspicion that Urahara gave them the smallest room on purpose. It was something that he seemed to take pleasure in.

After settling in, they fell asleep rather quickly, the night stealing away any consciousness that had remained.

...

"So, let me get this straight, _the hollow is here too_?" Winry smiled softly to herself as Renji asked Rukia the exact same question for the fifth time. She simply smacked him with her fist. Renji yowled insults, telling her that it was uncalled for and abusive. Rukia merely gave him The Look. Renji backed off to talk to the bald headed shinigami behind him. Madarame Ikkaku greeted him with a jolly punch to the arm, ending with a noogie fight. The girls simply sighed, turning to chat amiably with each other, easily overcoming the noise.

Yumichika joined in on the conversation, muttering that the others would just ruin his delicate hair.

Winry laughed, and Rukia rolled her eyes. They were on their way to the school, dressed in their uniforms. The guys would fidget in theirs every once in a while, unused to the tight and constricting fabric. Winry and Rukia, however, were used to it (Rukia having gone to school before, and Winry having gone to school in Risembool. Winry was happy to be seeing Orihime again, having become friends with her in the few days that they'd spent together in Soul Society. Rangiku and Toshiro were going to catch up before they got to the school, saying that the hollow couldn't be in a gigai and had to stay outside while they were in school. So one person would have to sit by the window and look after him during class.

Toshiro and Rangiku were going to be alternating between classes because he was their responsibility.

After a while, they reached the outside of the school, standing awkwardly while waiting. The wind whipped their hair around (in Ikkaku's case, it did nothing to his hair, or lack thereof). They watched as the students slowly made their way into the school, not even noticing them standing there in their gigai. They watched as Ichigo and his friends walked past them obliviously.

"You're sure that they're strong?" Yumichika asked doubtfully. Rukia bashed him on the head, making a cry of anguish for his hair sound out loud. Rukia merely nodded in satisfaction before waving with a grin at Toshiro and Rangiku, who seemed a bit ruffled.

"The hollow is a heavy sleeper." Toshiro supplied at their curious looks. Rangiku grinned, bustling up to Rukia and Winry. She grabbed them in a bear hug. Winry, awkward with people that she wasn't good friends with, patted her back. They gasped for breath as she let them go. She sent them a big smile, exchanging greetings with the only other females.

"Nakazora is in the yard, waiting for us to get to class. And before you object, I instructed him to let some of his reiatsu out, so I can sense him. If he runs off, I'll know. If he seals away his reiatsu, I'll know. If he fluctuates, I'll know." Toshiro spoke coldly; his icy tone of voice showing them how much he was like his zanpakutou.

"Let's go then," Winry supplied cheerfully. Curiously, she extended her own reiatsu to try and sense the hollow. She pulled it back in with shock. It seemed so familiar and warm. It couldn't possibly a hollow's reiatsu. She'd felt them before, and hollow reiatsu was wild, cold, and bloodthirsty. This reiatsu was merely comfortable.

She smiled to herself, suddenly warm. It was a wonderful feeling, and she was glad. It was really weird to think about.

She shoved the thought to the back of her mind, choosing to follow them humbly into the classroom.

She gave the students a small smile as she was introduced, smiling a little bit wider as she met Orihime's excited gaze. Winry simply nodded at the teacher when asked questions, and sat near the back with the rest of the group, save Toshiro.

Meanwhile, Toshiro was staring out the window at Nakazora, smirking amusedly. The hollow kept switching back and forth from lying on the ground to pacing, to sitting, to standing, and back to the beginning again. He was obviously bored, and Toshiro took a little bit of satisfaction that the hollow was the one being annoyed instead of Toshiro. Edward, as if sensing that he was thinking about him, caught his eyes and grinned. Toshiro rolled his eyes and turned to observe the classroom.

...

They met up with Ichigo and his friends at lunch, chatting to him about what was going and explaining that they'd been sent after the two Arrancar attacked them. They were there for protection and for research purposes too. Ichigo growled with stress. First there was a mysterious new kid, and now there were more "mysterious" new kids. And that included a hollow that seemed to be working for the Seireitei.

Toshiro had gone off with the weird hollow before the others met up for lunch, saying something about discussing his mask or something else equally as weird. Winry was getting frustrated that she was the only one that hadn't seen or spoken with him. Even Ichigo and his friends (minus the unspiritual human ones that weren't there) had seen him! It was irritating.

At times like these, when she felt cut off and alone, she wished Edward was there, telling her that he'd make sure that she only cried happy tears. She missed the way he'd hug her when he had to get automail repairs, after not seeing him for so long, and they'd be pressed together in harmony, if only for a moment, in bliss. The worst part was that she was sure that he loved her just as much as she loved him, and she'd never gotten the chance to talk to him about it. They'd never embraced as they should have, in a proper, loving way... which made so angry that she could turn into a hollow.

Not loving him was harder than anybody knew. And every time she thought of him like that, her chest would heave and swell, aching with the pain of losing the most important part of her life. She was in love with the man that had given her determination worthy of a Rockbell, and she hated him for dying on her before she got a chance to confess her love. The way he'd died was ironic enough that it hurt. She had wanted to laugh hysterically at his funeral, the biggest funeral in the history of Amestris. He was loved by his people more than he realised. There was even a festival on the third of October, named Elric Memorial Day. Winry had cried when she'd heard.

And now she wanted to cry too. It hit her every once in a while. Even after two hundred years, she still hadn't found him. What if he'd really died? What if he'd been swallowed by the gate for his sins? Winry couldn't even call them sins because she could never think of Edward like that.

She turned away from the others, wiping a stray tear that had run down her face, clashing with the pale skin that ran all over her body. She set her mouth in a grim line, not wanting to become weak. She'd promised only to cry happy tears, for Edward's sake.

Everything she did was for him, because if she didn't have hope, then she'd have died a long time ago. Maybe she was in denial, or maybe she was being delusional, but her absolute faith in his being alive was astounding, even to herself. She was afraid of what she'd do when she did find him.

She loved him, and that also scared her. There weren't a lot of things that didn't scare her, and she knew how weak she was because of it.

They decided to head to class then, wanting to be on time. And she was pulled out of her thoughts with a jolt as she ran to catch up.

...

All the students and teachers were long gone, and having heard that Winry had never met the hollow before, Rangiku forced them all to go and greet Nakazora. They all walked steadily to the schoolyard, putting a mod-soul into their gigai. Nakazora's back was turned, his body sitting on the ground. He was facing the sunset, his clothes blowing in the wind. He was wearing the lion mask.

He stood up slowly, turning to face them. Rangiku greeted him warmly, Toshiro nodding his welcome. The other shinigami (and humans) stood awkwardly to the side, having never really had a proper introduction, only either a brief sighting or a couple words. Toshiro introduced the others standing off to the side first, and the hollow nodded.

Winry realised, with a start, he looked a lot like Edward. He was about the same size, with the same body build, long golden hair put into a ponytail this time, and a trench coat, although white.

"And lastly, this is W—" Toshiro started to speak, but looked at the hollow in surprise as he interrupted.

"_Winry_..." he said it was such a heart broken tone that the others froze. Hadn't Winry said that she'd never met him before? Was she lying? What was with that tone?

Winry's eyes widened almost comically at the tone of voice. It was Edward's voice. But it was impossible. This was the oldest person on earth! How could it be Edward? Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, her mouth agape in wonder. He stared back at her, as if unnerved. He thought she was an illusion, and she thought he was one too. They both held their breath, as if unsure of what to do.

"You bastard," Winry whispered, having come to the conclusion that somebody was impersonating him. It was the only solution. She was sure that it couldn't be Edward, so she needed to find out who had the fucking gall to impersonate the love of her life. And Edward couldn't be a hollow. Edward was one of the kindest people she had ever met—he would have given up his life for a brother that had been mostly dead anyways, stuck in a suit of armour. He had offered himself to a serial killer in exchange for letting his brother that had no hope without him live. He was selfless, and selfish, and _god damn it_, he wasn't a hollow!

Instead of going for her zanpakutou, which everybody expected after seeing the rage in her eyes, she grasped a wrench from between her breasts, wielding it like it was just as dangerous. The golden orbs visible behind the mask widened in surprise—or fear?—leaving them to wonder what could be dangerous about a rather large wrench.

Winry darted forward, smacking him across the face with the wrench, making his body step backwards, and his head whip to the side. A small crack appeared on his mask, golden light shining through it. The shinigami were shocked silent, wondering why the hollow hadn't even tried to stop her. Winry, driven by rage, screamed at him. "_You fucking impersonator! Who the hell are you?_" She screeched, tears forming in her eyes.

She smacked him again, sending him backwards a little, and whipping his head in the opposite direction. More spider web cracks appeared on the mask.

She raised her arms above her head, swinging the wrench directly down onto his head. The witnesses flinched and winced in sympathy, their eyes drawn to the situation in confusion and horror.

The mask shattered into gold dust, swirling around him until they faded away, leaving his bear face visible. It really was him. His eyes were wide in anguish and shock, staring at her as blood pooled on the top of his head and dripped down his face. He fell to the ground, sitting on it with his legs sprawled in front of him. She screamed, falling down in the exact same way, tears pooling in her eyes and overflowing. She sobbed, covering her face in her hands.

Her heart clenched and her hands shook. She was so glad, he was alive, and he was there, and they were together, and—no, she needed to calm down. But she couldn't do that. Her emotions were overflowing, and her tears wouldn't stop falling, and she looked up through blurry eyes to see that he was wiping away tears of his own with his sleeve. The others were shocked.

Ichigo and his friends exchanged glances with the high-ranked shinigami, wondering about the two's mental health. They were still openly gaping at how the hollow was crying, unsuccessfully trying to wipe them away and hide it. They'd obviously known each other a long time ago and had thought that they'd never see the other ever again. They wondered how Nakazora could have met her, but it was entirely plausible that he'd been in the human world when she was human, or something along those lines.

"I-I thought you w-w-were, d-d-d-de-dead!" She hiccupped, finally having stopped crying. Edward sobered up as well, tears still making his eyes shine with emotion.

"I didn't know that you'd died!" Edward moaned into his hands, covering his face to shield it. Winry, as if remembering that they had an audience, started to blush bright red and stood up. She groaned, covering her face.

"I'm sorry, gomen, gomen," she bowed deeply, still blushing scarlet. The others looked at her in surprise.

"It's not your fault that you, uh, knew a hollow when you were alive..." Rangiku offered awkwardly, her mouth twitching upwards in a half hearted smile. Winry covered her face again, extremely embarrassed by her actions.

"Please forgive me, Hitsugaya-taichou, I didn't mean to injure your charge. I mean, I did, but I—I don't know..." Edward jumped up, blushing bright red.

"It's not your fault, Winry!" His lack of a suffix made them raise their eyebrows, suddenly interested. Had she become romantically involved? Had she had sex with a hollow?

Winry, noticing his mistake, started to blush bright red again, and sighed.

"Shut up!" She bashed him over the head with the wrench, leaving the others to sweat drop as he twitched soundlessly on the ground.

...

DONE! BETA THAT! You do realise that I'm not going to update for a while, right? I just gave you four updates in four days. That's a miracle by my standards. That's twelve thousand words, by the way. I'm so sick and tired of spending my whole evening doing this '-_-

Anyways, I hope I lightened their reunion up a little bit but making it in front of everyone. If they were alone, I think it would have been too depressing and unrealistic. He wouldn't be allowed to go off on his own anyways. He's Toshiro's little puppy, alright?

I hope you enjoyed that. It was hard to write.


	12. This Terrible Life We Choose to Live

Hell yeah. I'm back. I'm so sorry for the two months of wait, but I was participating in NaNoWriMo, and unfortunately my lack of success drove my writing motivation to zero. But Christmas brought it up again! I got many great gifts, and Christmas spirit sparked my motivation back up.

I do not own anything.

It was a shock, to say the least. They had been damned to eternal loneliness, in a world where they knew nobody, related to nobody, and were in positions that made it so they'd never have anybody. But without so much a hint, they found each other in a way they'd never imagined. Edward loved her. He'd been waiting to see if she did, when he was alive. Although, in his heart, he knew it to be true, he developed insecurities about love that had sent him into denial. It was denial that he loved her and denial that she loved him. He'd been broken too many times, by the love he'd developed for his friends and family, which had nearly sent him off the deep end. So, with a heavy heart each time he'd seen her, he'd got back to the military, reluctant to settle back down in Risembool. A smile every time her name was mentioned, a whisper of _I love you_ in the middle of the night when the stars were his only companion.

But then he _died_. And the only thoughts he had for a long time were of death and loneliness and power and protecting all those people that he could _never_ protect, because he just _wasn'tgoodenough_—and how Al—who's Al?—would be so disappointed if he didn't try—who the _fuck_ is Al?—so he tried, and it got harder, but then it hit him. A rush of power, and the memories that had slipped away in the agony of leaving everyone you loved, you protected, and you _needed_—so what now, he'd thought. But it wasn't really him to feel like that. It was never really him. So he'd decided that living on after losing so _much_—it was something that he'd do. He'd always imagined being alone for the rest of his time in this new world.

What a surprise she was, when out of the blue, Winry reappeared, that same fire that had been in her eyes when he'd left, anew in the way that she attacked him with vigour, something he'd missed. He missed a lot of things, now. His thoughts rambled like a train, and of course, trains always took him away, never back.

So he found himself back with Winry, and he'd cried, in front of all those shinigami, no less—FML. Now they'd think he was a sissy, which wasn't working for his badass image. Where was his red cloak when he needed it? A smile worked its way across his face because he just couldn't imagine seeing the rest of his friends and family without the red garment on his back. They'd give a look, and laugh a little bit, in that way they used to—_just_ to aggravate him. And then they'd share a knowing look, chuckling under their breath until one finally broke and burst into guffaws, enticing the others to do the same. Then he'd ask in a heated voice, "_What the hell is your damn problem_," with only the reply of laughter to answer his damn question.

That was how Ichigo found the hollow, a smile on his face and a distant look. The signature flashback look, Ichigo noted with amusement. Did that mean that hollows had good memories? And it was still up in the air, how the _hell_ did Winry and Nakazora know each other? They'd all had a meeting, trying to discuss what had happened—the meeting held in Urahara's shop, of course—and had come up with nothing that made sense. It seemed like more than a chance meeting made them friends, like they'd always been friends... _childhood_ friends. Like Ichigo and Tatsuki or Orihime and Tatsuki. So what the hell was wrong with that picture? The fact that a hollow and a shinigami were friends, for one.

The fact that he'd let her _hit_ him meant he had an affection of some sort. It shamed Toshiro to think of it, but she was essentially some leverage in case Nakazora ever tried to attack. Ever since they'd met, they'd started avoiding each other, like they didn't know what to say. None of them understood what that meant, but it was puzzling. Urahara simply reminded them that he wanted to speak with Mr. Nakazora. They simply reminded him that they were unable to do so when they were so unsure of everything. Urahara merely hid himself behind his fan, no sign of dissatisfaction showing.

Ichigo smiled down at the hollow.

"What're you thinking about, Nakazora-san?" He murmured as he sat down beside the hollow. They were sitting on the bank of the river where his mother had been killed. It gave him chills to think about, but he'd also started to come there to think. And Nakazora had started hanging out with him, so he'd taken him there. He'd left to get something to drink, and found him smiling.

A toothy grin met his voice. "Red, I suppose. I used to love it. It's badass, you know."

Ichigo had stared in shock, the bright orange hair making his face comical in the afternoon light. "Ah... yeah... Yeah, it is." And Ichigo had started to laugh.

"But now—I don't seem to know what it means to me anymore. It was light back then, but blood right now." And with those sobering words, they headed back to where Toshiro was waiting, Ichigo feeling like he understood Nakazora just a little bit more now.

Winry had avoided Edward because she was scared. She was so scared that her legs shook when she felt his soothing reiatsu tickle her senses. She'd given up for a long, _long,_ time. She'd been desperate for a long, _long_, time. Her depression had lasted a long, _long_, time. But she'd gotten over it, finally, and in an instant, her insecurities and cut off emotions came rushing in like a tsunami. She wanted to curse and swear, and her moods were so erratic, she felt like a hormonal pregnant lady. At times, she wanted to weep, and other times she wanted to lift up whoever had made Edward in charge of her emotions and slam them on the ground so bad that not even Orihime's skills in healing could save them.

But, she was afraid, most of all, of her own people. The shinigami that she'd become almost detested hollows, although she mostly just felt pity, and the sight of Edward, having become a hollow, nearly killed her. It must have killed him too.

It must have made him go nearly insane, with the pressure of such dark thoughts in a mind already filled to the brim with them. It must have made him whimper _every single night_, knowing that there was _nobody_ here that could save him from the shadow that fell and swooped into his mind. She was so afraid that he'd snapped under that pressure because she wasn't there, and she was so afraid that her friends, the shinigami, would sentence the man she loved to death. She was so afraid of him accepting it.

Because never in his life had Edward thought he deserved to live other than the fact that he had the ideal that everybody deserves to live and nobody deserves death.

Winry had started to doubt him and his hold on reality. She wasn't supposed to do that. She was supposed to be the support that he needed, not the pillar standing in his way. It hurt to know that she was starting to fear herself too. She was starting to grasp at loose straws, her mind tumbling and falling in the way it had done when she had fallen ill. She loved him. She _loved_ him. It should have been enough. But it wasn't, because it takes two to love, and without the other, love falls apart. She needed assurance from him, something he wasn't giving.

Not to mention the shock of finding out how absolutely kingly he was.

It really fit him well, when she thought about it. Edward would have been a wonderful king. He'd have been a great listener, a beautiful conversationalist, and his hold over his land would have been warm, and never cold. But Winry had already guessed that time passed differently between the two worlds, so she knew that Edward would have gotten there more than a couple years before her. But she'd never guessed just how much time had passed—just how much he'd been alone. It struck her that it would be billions of years before Edward ever saw Al again, _if_ he did. It was so saddening that she almost cried for him. It was heartbreaking, knowing that Edward would have figured it out.

It was also going to be heartbreaking when he found out how she died. How he'd become his father, leaving her to get so heartbroken that her body had started failing too.

She hoped that he wouldn't do anything drastic, but she also wanted to know that being a hollow hadn't made him heartless, that her insecurities were unfounded and cruel. She wanted to be proved wrong. It was an unusual thing to wish, but she wished in nonetheless.

She was scared that he'd be killed by his own kind, after the scary hollows had attacked Tatsuki, Orihime, and Chad.

"Ed—Nakazora?" she called out softly, her fist knocking on the door to his room. She was through avoiding him. She was through being the silly little girl that pretended everything was alright. She wanted to clear up everything.

"I'm here." Edward spoke softly from behind her, making her jump up and gasp. He chuckled sweetly, a strong masculine sound that she'd missed.

"_I'm sorry, Ed..."_ she switched to Amestrian, aware of the eyes that were watching (and listening) from the living room. The whole gang had decided to stop over.

"_What are you to be sorry about?"_ he paused. _"I'm sorry too, though."_

He slipped down the side of the wall, leaning against it thoughtfully. She slid down beside him.

Winry clasped her hands together and smiled at him, perplexed.

"_You've grown up, Ed. I missed you."_

"_What's wrong with that?"_ he stared off into the white expanse of the wall in front of him, a frown on his face. _"I know what I want now. Something we missed out on. I want peace, Winry, I want peace. Not just for us,"_ he clasped her hand to his, _"but for everybody. I'm not as selfish as I used to be, and yet I'm only doing all this because I can't have peace without it. What I want will never happen, but my body aches to try."_

His jaw locked with irritation.

"_I want to know that this can happen, that we can be together without your fucking friends coming to slaughter us in our sleep. It is such fucking bullshit that all hollows have to deal with it. And it's my fault."_

Winry watched as he withdrew his hand from hers and covered his face. He leaned over and sobbed without tears, punching the wall with frustration.

"_It's not your fault, Edward. It wasn't your fault when your mother died. It never will be. You're innocent."_

"_But I'm _not!_ I'm guilty of leaving those poor people behind to deal with the darkness of Hueco Mundo. I fell into a deep sleep, Winry, and the repercussions will haunt me for the rest of my life."_ Edward turned away, and Winry knew that Edward was still Edward. He had adopted all hollows as his little brother, his new Al. And so, it was his fault that they were being killed. It was like they were killing Al every single time that they killed a hollow.

"_Oh Edward, I'm sorry. I wish... I wish this hadn't happened. You're too good for this to be forced on you. You're too good for this world."_

"_I hate how you say that. I've never been good enough. You deserve to be with somebody better."_

"_You don't dare say that again! I love you, Edward Elric, and that's not going to change. You've never been one to give up what's yours, so don't give up on me. I've been just as bad as you."_ She slowly brought his hands back down from his eyes, a small smile gracing her face.

"_Damn it Winry, why do you have to be so perfect?"_ Edward grinned, wrapping his left arm around her and embracing her in a hug.

"Because I was born this way." She stuck a tongue out at him, leaning into his embrace, ignoring the amused—and confused—gazes of the crowd lounging in Orihime's living room.

"I wish I had my old coat..." he mused.

Winry started to laugh, but then she turned to look at him with a disgruntled face.

"Do you have a hollow-hole, then?"

"Erm, yeah, I do. Why?"

"Well, show me it, you retard." Winry scowled at him until he reluctantly agreed.

"I have to put my mask on, though," he warned.

She nodded determinedly.

With a whoosh of air, reminiscent of when he used to perform alchemy, golden reiatsu formed into the bone white mask in the shape of a lion. Edward shook his head, as if disorientated by the change. He turned toward her, and with a flourish, revealed that in was through his right wrist. The same arm that he'd lost when he'd tried to get Al back from the Truth.

Winry was surprised, but she was soon grossed out by the gaping hole.

"Ew... That's gross..." she turned away, but she knew that he saw how she recognised the arm. He had _also_ theorised that that was the reason why it had been on that arm.

With a strange flourish, the hole and mask were gone. "That's a bit... unnatural." Winry started to say.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's not normal. Hollows have hollow-holes all the time. That's why they're called hollows. I'm more of a Visored. So technically, I'm almost a shinigami. But, then again, it just means that all of you guys are a sub species of me. Am I amazing or what?" Edward grinned cockily, leaving Winry to roll her eyes in exasperation. He was full of mood swings too, it seemed.

"Fuck you." She teased back, jumping up from her perch on the floor.

"Language, young lady!" he admonished. She'd actually started using the curses she'd picked up in Soul Society, to her embarrassment.

She grinned in reply at his hypocritical reprimand.

"I need to meditate." He realised with a start. Shinjitsu was probably seething with anger at being ignored for the past week or two. He slapped a hand to his forehead. "Damn it, now he'd going to be grumpy. And if anything happens while I'm meditating, I won't know about it. I go into a deep sleep." He admitted sheepishly.

"I have Bankai, no need for me at the moment." Winry mused out loud, sauntering back to her friends with a wave good bye.

"Stupid bloody shinigami and their advanced training methods." He muttered darkly.

He darted back into his room to meditate without another word.

The black haired Zanpakutou was not impressed by Edward's steady stream of excuses.

"Research. Now." He paused for effect. "And if you get some theories out of it by the time you finish that shelf, we'll see if I have time to train you." Edward ducked his head down in defeat, ready to go peruse the books that logged everything his mind had ever encountered.

It was going to be a long session.

When the Espada and Arrancar attacked them, they paid no heed to the fact that Edward was still meditating. They'd forgotten him. But throughout their fights, the hollows seemed distracted and twitchy. They had sensed Edward and it made them antsy. The feeling of something old and powerful stroke fear in their hearts, and yet they felt as if they'd known that strange reiatsu their whole life.

The tried to see if it would come, having recognised it as a hollow, but their flashes of reiatsu only made the shinigami that they were fighting more persistent. They wondered in the hollow was on their side. Was it that strange hollow that Aizen had warned them of? Who in their right mind would attack Aizen, the king of hollows, when they were a hollow too? It was puzzling, and it distracted them all too well. Except Grimmjow of course. He was focused on squishing that little fucker that was screwing up Aizen's plans.

But with a chill, they all realised that not only was this reiatsu the one that Aizen told them to watch out for, it was also the reiatsu that they'd had to fight against. The very same reiatsu that they'd been terrified of. That reiatsu that had frozen their limbs and commanded them to go towards it. It was the scariest reiatsu they'd ever felt, because it felt like it was theirs. It felt like it belonged to them, but they belonged to it too. It was too great to fight against at the worst of times, and they felt themselves getting a lighter feeling in their guts just by being in the same vicinity.

That was the scariest thing of it all. It felt like they were starting to be a bit cheerful, when their hearts felt that being cheerful was an abomination. That was what made them sad. That being cheerful felt wrong. That being normal felt stupid and lame. That they were just meant for evil and pain.

But it felt so good to know how bad they were, how bad they could be. They were free from the restraints of being a slow, normal human. They were free to be the most bad that they could be, to walk the plains of life with a sadistic point of view. And it felt absolutely amazing.

Edward wanted to change that.

**Questions and comments that you'll probably not need answered:**

I love you guys. You guys have stuck with me when things were really bad. I've been really busy and my writer's block has no limit at times, but you guys keep reading this story and you keep giving me the love for it that I really appreciate. I haven't got any flames, and for that, I appreciate it. You're really helpful with pointing out mistakes, and I'm glad you like this story.

I'm thinking of skipping the Hueco Mundo Arc, or at least only recapping it slightly. Edward and Winry will not have any major roles in that part at least. I am, though, making them, or at least Edward, play a huge part in the ending.

I'm sorry if anybody seems out of character, but I really do love your support. Point out any problems you have, and I'll gladly answer them.

Before you freak out, Winry's Bankai is not powerful. It's actually on the same level as the Shikai of other shinigami. More or less, it's more like she has two Shikai, but I'm sure that you guys would think that's too off-canon, and so she just has a weak Bankai.

This story will end at about chapter sixteen or seventeen, and then I will be starting a line of one-shots and another crossover, this time with Lord of the Rings and Naruto. Put me on Author Alert and you'll see it when it shows up, thank you.

Next chapter: I'll elaborate on Winry's Zanpakutou, Bankai, and Shikai. Edward will theorise a little bit more.


	13. HeavyMetalDisco

I do not own anything.

"_Hey kids here we go, heavy metal, disco. Put your hands up, this is love in America. Malibu to Broadway, dance away the heartache. Blow the world a kiss, this is love in America. Ay-ay-yeah, your dreams are gonna come true. Ay-ay-yeah tonight it's just me and you. Hey kids, here we go. Sex, hugs, rock and roll, fill your cup up this is love in America."_ Winry watched in awe as she stood in the doorway, her eyes glued to the form of her favourite alchemist, his lean body moving to the beat as he sung the tune. He was currently in the kitchen, munching on carrots as he made dinner. Orihime wasn't really suited to cooking, her peculiar taste evident. So the entire gang usually stopped by for dinner, and they took turns making dinner. Edward had been lucky to draw the longest straw and was last.

Most of the gang had shot him angry looks for the last week, due to the fact that he'd basically slept through their entire battle, and he hadn't had to make dinner afterwards either. He'd simply been glad.

But it was almost disturbing to find him singing upbeat pop songs when they were in a war. The worst part was that he actually sounded good. It was kind of awesome. Winry found her shocked expression wearing off, a slow but sure smile on her face now. It was weird, but kind of incredibly sexy. After realising her line of thought, her face flushed an incredible beet-red, and she shuffled away, hiding her giggles with a delicate hand.

The shinigami (plus three others, Orihime, Chad, and Uryu) all looked up in amusement, watching the petite shinigami turn away with a giggle.

"What's wrong, Winry-chan?" Orihime asked, thinking that she was hurt, having not heard the quiet giggle.

"N-n-no-nothing..." Winry turned back to them, full out laughter escaping from her mouth. They all stared in shock, unsure of what was going on.

"What's wrong with her?" Toshiro asked Matsumoto, earning an unsure shrug in return.

"H-h-he-he's s-s-s-sin-singing!" As soon as the sentence was out, she returned to full-out peals of laughter. They all exchanged bewildered glances, shooting to their feet. They dashed to Orihime's kitchen, standing in the doorway with equal expressions of shock. Edward hadn't noticed, continuing to crack eggs and tap spoons against the table to make beats along with the new song he was singing.

"_Oh the boy's a slag. The best you ever had, the best you ever had is just a memory and those dreams, but as daft as they seem, as daft as they seemed, my love when you dream them up... Flicking through a little book of sex tips; remember when the boys were all electric? Now when she tells she's gonna get it, I'm guessing that she'd rather just forget it. Clinging to not getting sentimental, said she wasn't going but she went still. Likes her gentlemen not to be gentle, was it a Mecca dauber or a betting pencil?"_

After seeing it, just like with Winry, their shock slowly faded to impressed amusement, then turned into hilarity as the situation finally kicked in. They had a hollow in their kitchen—singing. It was hard to believe and they were the ones who were seeing it. Winry watched as their faces went red in an effort to control the humour, the laughter tearing at their throats in an effort to get out.

Instead, she tried to focus on something else, anything but the laughter that was dying to get out.

She zoomed in on Edward himself. He was wearing old-school clothes that would've been normal for Amestris, not modern-day Japan. The black slacks were dusted in patches with flour and spices, a snow white dress-shirt's sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a dark gray vest overtop. A light pink apron topped it off, flour in his deep golden locks of hair, and the same white powder coating his cheek and eyelashes. His hair was twisted messily on top of his head, spilling over his head like a tidal wave, and his eyes gazed at the food he was making with a determined force.

As he spoke the last word of his song, he looked towards the door, locking eyes with Winry. The red-faced occupants of the tiny space couldn't hold it any longer, and a bubble of laughter erupted, drowning out the gently steaming pots and the sound of Edward's knife slicing through vegetables.

At the realisation of what had occurred, he turned bright red, muttering quickly and quietly, "I was bored." Which, when heard, made a whole new round of laughter appear.

"You have a good voice, Nakazora-san," Chad spoke up, his face serious—as always. Edward simply blushed again, unused to the positive attention.

"_What would Roy say if he saw this?"_ Winry teased in flawless Amestrian, earning a glare from Edward. He laughed at himself, though, just because he understood the humour of the situation.

"Just because I'm better at singing than you guys doesn't mean you need to tease me about it!"

This sparked more laughter. It was great, how they could forget the differences imposed by society in moments like those. They'd forgotten Edward's hollow-nature, and Edward had forgotten the nature of all shinigami. It made him feel safe, warm, and _happy_. It was weird, but true. He loved moments when problems were erased, when nothing but love and happiness radiated from peoples' minds. It made him so happy to be able to be a part of something like that when fate had damned him to be a part of the supposedly damned creatures of this new world. Irony at its best, it was.

"I can't believe you sing while you cook," one of them choked it out, peals of laughter following, tears flowing from their eyes, stomachs clenched in joy. Their hands turned shaky as they tried to wipe the tears out of their eyes, to no avail.

"So," Rukia whispered, glancing back and forth down the sidewalk, as if somebody was following them, "do you know Nakazora-san's real name?"

Orihime and Rukia had taken her with them while they went to purchase groceries. They'd spent the majority of the time gossiping, but now that they were walking back, they'd focused on Winry almost entirely.

"Well, yes, but I can't tell—" Winry replied quickly and nervously, but was cut off by Rukia and Orihime, their voices begging to be told. Winry clamped her lips firmly shut, but amusement twinkled in her eyes.

They groaned loudly, knowing that she wasn't giving up anything. It was depressing! She was their only hope to finding out more! Now they'd have to be content with their own gossip, which wasn't anything much, except they now knew that Winry knew the hollow's real name. They wondered if it was foreign like hers too.

It was something so personal, knowing his name in a world where nobody else did. Everyone had known the amazing Edward Elric. He was the hero of his people; he was the only person in the military that had everyone's love and support. He was an enigma, the person that kids grew up wanting to be. He was an example; he was loved and looked up to. He'd had so much support back then, it was hard to imagine what it was like to be hated so fiercely. He'd been hated at first back home, of course. Dogs of the military weren't well received. But he'd grown into somebody to trust, to rely on. And now... nothing. It was horrible to think of what he'd been and how he was trash here.

"He was loved... a lot, when I knew him. He just—everybody looked up to him, and he was a hero. But now—it's like everybody hates him _for no good reason_. I bet it is _killing_ him. He fixes things, and this is just something I don't think he can fix. He doesn't have the _ability_. Not anymore. Maybe at one point. He had the ability to change the world, and he wanted to—but it disappeared." A flaky smile dusted her lips as she let them into their world, into a place where his image was anything but tarnished. It was sad, the past, but they were simply dazzled by it.

"So, he's a lot like Ichigo, then." Rukia murmured, Orihime nodding softly in agreement.

"Ah, yes. More than you realise. In fact, his whole life was based around saving people." Winry directed a sly look at Rukia, earning a small blush.

"That's so interesting. Does he have family, then?" Orihime asked, her eyes shining with curiosity. Winry was startled, unsure of what to say.

"Yes. He... does. I'm not sure about his father; he could be a hollow or a shinigami, or anything, really. He might be dead-dead, or just normal dead. He died in a _certain_ way that I'm not so sure. He died before Nakazora. Nakazora's mother died when he was small. And he has a brother. I'm not sure what happened to him. But Nakazora loved him _so much_. They were inseparable. And then Nakazora died." Winry spoke softly as they walked. "Or at least that's how he told it to me."

"H-how did he die?" Rukia asked, unsure. "I mean, if you know?"

"He was tortured and—and he died because his cells were literally unable to stay together." Winry looked away, tears coming to her eyes. It was so horrible. It had been sickening to hear. And to see what was left...

Rukia and Orihime covered their mouths in horror, astonishment clouding their eyes. Who was horrible enough to do that to somebody?

"He said he was the first hollow... so how does that work? I mean, he must have been alive millions of years ago? It's just weird... Does that mean, if his father turned out to be a shinigami, that his father's the _first_ shinigami? Does that make him the Soul King?" Rukia questioned, self-consciously aware of how annoying it is to have so many questions thrown at you.

"I'm not sure. I don't think Nakazora has ever thought of it. He's so absorbed in meditating these days..."

"He's pretty amazing, huh?" Orihime smiled.

"Yeah..."

"So, if your Zanpakutou is a part of your soul, then breaking your weapon should mean that you can remake it again easily. And equivalent exchange still exists in this world. The rules are still there, in its basis, but they've adapted. Our Zanpakutou are parts of our souls. We have gained access to them because death has unlocked the limit. Equivalent exchange. You have to die to unlock something unavailable during life. But then there are the impossible things we can do with our Zanpakutou. But it has rules. We can't do everything that everybody else can do. We have to follow rules too. Your one power may be only usable in certain conditions or for a certain period of time. We exchange spiritual power, our soul's life force, in order to use it. And when we run out, we lose access. The Truth's just laidback on this side of the gate."

"Very good, Edward-san. You're amazing. But think about it. Why would Truth be more lenient on this side?" Shinjitsu smiled.

Edward paused, his mind shifting through piles of data he'd gone through.

"I suppose it has to do with the four afterlives here. There must be a gate for each. Becoming a hollow, being absorbed by a hollow, going to live in Soul Society, and being killed twice. Because there are four gates, the gates have lost their potency. Because in Amestris, you have only one gate to pass through: the one that takes you from the living to the dead. And here, there are multiple gates."

"Exactly. This has turned out great. You're understanding things better. This means that by using me, you can access alchemy. You see?"

"Yes!" Edward grinned, laughing in ecstasy. It was amazing, knowing that he'd be able to use alchemy.

"You're dismissed, then."

"Thank you!"

"Hey, you wanna spar?" Edward had been asking everyone constantly, pent up energy rushing throughout his body. He needed action, release.

"I'll do it." Winry spoke up, a cocky grin on her face. Edward simply stared, unsure. After a couple seconds of debate, a bright smile lit up his face.

"You're on." He laughed, turning to the others. "You wanna watch?" They all nodded enthusiastically, following the two as they descended into Urahara's "basement".

Winry sized up Edward, taking in her opponent. He'd definitely be difficult. He was extremely fit, not to mention his overwhelming power that she'd felt.

Edward simply grinned in that animalistic way he'd perfected as a child. It sent shivers down her spine, and she couldn't exactly say they were negative.

"Who do you think will win?" Renji asked the others, his voice down low. Ichigo wasn't there. He'd been gone for a while. Nobody knew where he was. It was worrying, but at the moment, it was pushed to the back of their minds.

Orihime and Rukia shared a look. "I think Winry will."

"Are you kidding me? Nakazora's obviously the tougher one!"

"Yeah right! I think he can't bring himself to lay a hand on her!"

The argument of whether Winry would win or not went on for quite a while, only stopping because Edward and Winry had started.

"_I'll be waiting for you to come home,_ Yatagarasu!" Winry murmured with her sword in her hands in an instant. The thin sword disappeared, leaving Edward to look at her in confusion. Instead, she brought out a small scroll from the folds of her clothing. She placed a hand on it as she unrolled it, sending a small amount of reiatsu into it. With a flash of electricity, a two meter high mechanical dog stood staring at Edward. It looked a lot like Den, and looked like it was made from automail.

"BANKAI!" Winry yelled, a pair of yellow eyes sparking to life inside the animal's head. It growled, eyeing up Edward with distaste.

"No way..." he mouthed, unsure of what he should think about this new development.

With a flash, he summoned his hollow mask, the stark white bone contrasting with his golden hair. He was wearing his white outfit like when he'd first woken up in Hueco Mundo. The others blatantly stared at the giant sword that appeared with the mask. It was like Ichigo all over again.

Edward activated his Shikai, a grin hidden beneath his mask.

"_**Truth is Strength!**_** Truth is Strength!"** Edward sent a line of spikes at Winry, forcing her to jump backwards. He erected a wall behind her, blocking her path. She directed the dog at the wall, breaking it down. He leaped backwards as the dog lunged towards him, only to turn and spot Winry's reiatsu laced hands shooting towards his neck. He brought his sword up, blocking the attack, and then jumped upwards, landing on the dog.

Winry laughed, sending the dog into a frenzy of movement to get him off. She dove in for the attack as he decided to jump off of the dog, a kick heading for his legs. He neatly tucked into a roll and landed smoothly in a crouch. He grinned cockily and dashed towards her. His sword, glowing with golden reiatsu, flew towards her with immeasurable speed. In a flash, she was crouching below the sword's path, the dog's jaws with a firm lock on the piece of metal. Edward growled and tossed the dog off to the side with a powerful swing of the sword, turning back too late to block the sweeping motion of Winry's leg as his were knocked out from under him.

He yelled as he collapsed, Winry's sword back in her hands and pointed directly at his chin. The metallic dog was powered off and Winry had reformed her sword.

"Damn, Winry."

The principles were her tiny microscopic robots that formed her sword. They broke up into pieces and controlled the mechanical creations she carried around. It wasn't very powerful, but it was useful and easy to help support others in battle. The robots could help heal or help fight, either way. It was a brilliant way to power up her creations.

Edward's mask dissolved as she helped him up, a grin on his face. "Why didn't you tell me that you were so good?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice.

"You never asked." Winry simply replied with a pretty smile. Edward just replied with a smirk and watched as she put the robotic dog back into its scroll.

"It looks like Den." He pointed out. "Did you base it on him?"

"Yeah, I did." Winry beamed, happy that he'd noticed.

"Well, it's fantastic."

"Thank you."

...

"I told you she'd win."

There you go! Sorry about the horrible wait. The two songs in the beginning are "Love in America" by JTX and "Florescent Adolescent" by Arctic Monkeys.

Hope this was humourous!


	14. Starry Saviours

_**Dedicated to my new beta, Cadens Stella. You're amazing. This chapter wouldn't be here without you!**_

I do not own anything.

It was days like this when he thought back to the times when he was alive; the times when he had the ability to do the things he'd always wanted to do. He wanted to have a family—to settle down and raise his kids to be as sweet and as kind as Al was.

It was always the days when he was left alone that it happened. When he was left standing in the overwhelming silence that appeared. It killed him. He'd lost so many things. He'd had so many opportunities, but he'd slaughtered them all the moment that he had died.

It was unfair.

Ed truly enjoyed music, though only a few people knew this fact. Music calmed him; it made the silence go away—and god knows that he needed that.

Roy once had caught him playing the piano.

He had been pleasantly surprised: Edward wasn't just good, he was fantastic. His fingers sped across the piano keyboard with breathtaking grace and amazing dexterity. Suddenly, Ed wasn't just a genius in Roy Mustang's eyes, he was a musical prodigy as well.

It was unexpected.

However, Edward had gotten lessons as a small child, and they'd had a grand piano in their attic at home. He hadn't played for years after their mother died; in fact, he'd never even been able to_ look_ at it after the funeral, let alone _play _it.

The piano had burned down along with the rest of their house.

A lost look invaded Ed expression as he started walking towards the entrance of the school. He'd received a gigai the previous day, and could now be seen by anyone and everyone. His vacant look would have scared anybody who was around to see it, but luckily the students were all busy with their classes.

He weaved throughout the hallways, as if having memorised the layout. He felt like he was swimming through a sea of honey, his movements slow and stiff. The past terrified him and it made him so homesick that he wanted to curl up into a ball and let the insanity that had been dwelling within him finally take over. He wanted to bawl and scream and hurt everybody that had a chance at happiness.

And that scared him most of all.

He stopped when he saw an obviously unused classroom with a plaque reading 'music room' off to his right. He tried the doorknob, and with a melancholy smile gracing his features, he opened it. The soft creaking of rusted hinges was the only noise in the suffocating silence that despised so thoroughly.

A dusty grand piano sat in the center of the tiny room, old boxes stacked up against the walls of it. He took a couple hesitant steps, but ended up sitting on the worn bench in the end, his hands sliding the wooden cover off of the keys. The ivory gleamed faintly in the dull light, startling him.

Edward jumped, a perfectly in tune note ringing throughout the room as his elbow banged against one of the keys.

Sitting with a straight back, his trembling hands poised gingerly over the keys, he began to play. At first it was a slow, sad song, but it soon grew erratic and angry, almost to the point of violence, his fingers clashing against the keys with such a quick, fast force that it took all of his will not to obliterate them.

Suddenly, a loud, clanging sound vibrated throughout the hallways, briefly interrupting the song and signalling the end of the class period. He stopped as he heard this; his fingertips still shaking as they they brushed lightly against the ivory keys.

His breathe caught in his throat as he shook, trembles causing his fingers to cramp up and quit their erratic movements. His eyes were wide with emotion, his head clouded with gravity. He allowed his eyes to flutter closed, and within seconds, he was the epitome of calm. Winry wouldn't want him to be like this. She knew him. He was better than this self-pity that was consuming him.

What was wrong with him?

He had to fight against these cruel things. He couldn't let the hollow side of him overwhelm what had been saved. A small, enchanting smile graced his lips as he decided this, and he began to play once more.

Students down the hall, walking to their next class, paused abruptly. A light music filled the hallway, quiet, but beautiful nonetheless. Most shrugged after listening for a moment, eager to get to their other classes. But the spiritually aware group paused deliberately. They all could sense the hollow, and they all wondered why he was in the school.

"Is that Nakazora, then?" Rukia murmured, unsure.

"I suppose. He knows how to play the piano." Winry piped up from behind them, a hesitant smile on her face.

"Really? Let's go check it out, then." Renji grinned devilishly, jogging off in the direction of the music.  
They all followed dutifully behind him, curious expressions and smiles lighting up their eager faces. They reached the music room, opening the door to find Edward poised at the piano, his hands pressing the keys down delicately, the loving tone echoing throughout the room. His back was turned to them, and he was so absorbed in his music that he didn't notice that they were in the room.

"_The best thing about tonight is that we're not fighting. Could it be that we have been this way before? I know you don't think that I am trying. But I know that you're worn thin down to the core. So hold your breath..."_ his voice whispered softly, lilting to the tune of the song. They all watched him with amusement and sadness, their gazes drawn to him like moths to candlelight.

"_Tonight will be the night that I will fall for you, over again, don't make me change my mind. I won't live to see another day, I swear it's true. Because a girl like you is impossible to find. You're impossible to find."_

He abruptly stopped playing as he looked up at them in surprise.

"Holy shit, when did you get here?"

They simply laughed, telling him that he shouldn't be here and that they were going to be late. Winry was the last to leave, her gaze lingering on him for a while, as he caught her eyes.

"See you later, Ed." She smiled prettily, turning to leave.

"I love you." He murmured to himself, quiet enough that she couldn't hear him. She gave him questioning look when she heard him muttering something, but then she turned, leaving him alone once more.

"Fuck love and fuck this shit." He scowled, getting up and storming off.

He then proceeded to throw tantrums at any and all people in the vicinity of him. He nearly tore off the heads of a young couple arguing about who was shorter. After growling about how he wasn't short, he left them to stare at each other in confused silence.

After leaving to train, the group's number had been greatly depleted. Orihime and Rukia were gone. Chad and Ishida were gone. All in all, there weren't many people left to hang out with.

So when the news that Orihime was kidnapped reached them, there was more outrage than was strictly necessary. Edward was the most hyped up from lack of action, but the others were quite stir-crazy as well. They'd all been training, but quite frankly, they were all extremely twitchy, not to mention anxious. They all knew that it was coming, and they were paranoid.

Edward had decided to stay behind. He would be more useful away from Hueco Mundo.

Hueco Mundo made him feel conflicted. It gave him the chills, and it made him feel much happier than was healthy.

Which is why he decided to opt out.

But those Soul Society bastards didn't think that it was optimal to rescue Orihime. Those bastards were ready to keep on sacrificing, to keep on killing in order to save their own bloody asses.

"_Fullmetal, we're going up against the system, we're fighting for our country, for our people. We're not Dogs of the Military; we're Alchemists of the People! We're fighting because that's what we do! We're here to save people. Do what you do best, Ed. Kick some ass. Now let's do this shit!"_

Mustang.  
Hawkeye.  
Al.  
Winry.  
Teacher.  
Hohenheim.  
Ling.  
Everybody...

"I know you guys are going anyways. I'll be here when you rescue her. I'll be your backup, I guess. This Aizen guy, you bring him here and I'll show him what happens when the wrath of Fullmetal falls on him, alright?" Edward grinned, nodding at Winry.

"Alright, then, we'll catch up with that ginger, giant, and glasses freak. You stay here. Be our eyes and ears with Soul Society. They might even put their faith in Ichigo." Rukia murmured.

"Anybody with common sense would. I do, and they do too. They're just on edge. Yamamoto will realise that he's being ridiculous eventually. While you're gone, Urahara and I will prepare for the war. Aizen will have to go through us first."

"Holy fuck," Winry gasped.

"What?" Renji asked impatiently.

"Nakazora's a genius. Urahara's a genius. Who knows what they'll come up with now that they're alone _together_?"

They all collectively shivered.

"I'm not _that_ smart." Edward piped up with a sheepish grin, avoiding everyone's eyes.

"You were doing university level 'mathematical equations' when you were five years old. I think you are."

"Psh, Al was doing them too."

"Yes, but both of you are geniuses. You got it from your father," Winry rolled her eyes, "And he was a genius too."

"His father... I thought he was the first hollow?" Urahara spoke up from his perch on the ground, a fan firmly hiding his lower face.

"I am. I had to be made somehow. My father died though... I was the first corporeal soul in existence. I was made by absorbing other souls, my father included. Who knows? If I hadn't done that, he could've been your silly 'Soul King.'" Edward rolled his eyes.

"I was actually wondering about that." Winry smiled. "So do you think you know who the Soul King is?"

"It could be Father, for all I know." He sighed. "But that's not him. He wouldn't build an empire that thinks it is saving humanity. I honestly think it's the Truth. I think that he likes playing games like this."

"I'm so confused!" Renji whined.

"Just hurry and go. Those dumbasses are going to get killed if you don't go soon." Edward pointed towards Urahara, who shrugged and opened the pathway to Hueco Mundo.

Edward could _feel_ it calling to him.

"And if you see any hollows, try not to kill them. I really hate genocide."

The others quickly caught up with Ichigo, Chad, and Uryu. They split up quickly, each having battles of their own to fight.

Their objective: bring Orihime, their princess, home.

"I have a theory on Sonido, or Flash-stepping, you know."

"Really, now... I'd love to hear it." Urahara's eyes lit up with scientific curiosity. Edward's face perked up, the two of them once again engaging in a rather dull—to the others—conversation about theories and other scientific nonsense.

"Well..." he continued on to explain.

In between their little bursts of creative ideas, they'd made a plan of what to do. Soul Society was finally cooperating, and they knew what Aizen wanted.

Edward trusted Kisuke. He was shifty, and strange, but he understood Edward and he understood what Ed was talking about. They could freely discuss any topic.

"Does... have you ever heard of alchemy?"

"Not really, no. Isn't it something about immortality and turning gold into lead?"

"Kind of, I suppose. But immortality requires thousands of lives in sacrifice, and it is virtually impossible to transmute lead into gold. My zanpakutou uses alchemy."

Urahara paused, unsure of what to say.

"So... you're fully immortal?"

"No I'm not, not at all." Edward paused. "Alchemy is sacred to me. I love it more than anything. It's a science. It's a religion. It's in everything around us. This whole world is made from alchemy. The gates to death and life and true death are all governed by alchemy. One is all, and all is one. Alchemy is governed by rules. Alchemy used to be... stricter.

"But now, it's more lenient. You've noticed that without rules, we'd have unlimited power, right? It's because you have to give something of equal value in order to get something in return. We have to give up some things to be able to use these powers."

He'd never thought like that before. But it made sense in a messed up and confusing way.

"Our freedom, essentially, and our souls is the price. We're using up our souls when we use our reiatsu, but it regenerates. And you don't get free access to the power. You have to use it in a certain way. You don't get to do whatever you want. You have certain powers and a limited time to use them, and you can't do more than a certain number of things with them. Do you follow me?"

Urahara nodded, entranced. Edward's brilliance was mesmerising.

"So, in essence, the Gate, the thing powering alchemy, is powering _zanpakutou_ too. I'm just more in tune with alchemy then you guys. I know what's happening. I control the source of power. I can use it, I think, to destroy Aizen. If he can be weakened enough so that I can get him into a transmutation circle, we can win this."

"I have an idea too, then," Urahara's eyes glinted, "Ichigo will have to do it though. He's the only one who can defeat Aizen once the _Hougyoku_ is activated."

"Good, I knew that we'd need him."

"Now, how are we going to get him powerful enough to do it...?"

"Is everybody ready, then?" Edward asked Urahara as they walked throughout the fake Karakura. Urahara nodded.

"As ready as they'll ever be."

"Good," Edward smirked, "Let's kick some ass. You guys let me worry about Aizen until that ginger gets here."

"Understood, sir. I'll tell the others." It wasn't about him being an unknown anymore. He was one of them, for now. He was uniting with them against somebody that they all hated, somebody that they both knew needed to be taken down.

Without help, Edward couldn't do it, and Soul Society needed all the help that they could get. For now, there was a truce. After the battle was over, they'd decide what to do with the mysterious person known as Nakazora, and Edward was ready to tell them all about his past life after the battle was done. If he survived.

It was gnawing at him, his worry for Winry, about whether she was alright...

Screw the fate of hollow-kind, if they laid a finger on her, he'd kill them all himself. He'd slaughter the lot of them. It made him see red just thinking about it. If anything, this world had made him even more protective of his friends and family.

_Dad, I think I've found a place where I can be happy. That hollow hole, that empty spot that appears with my mask, it feels like it's disappearing. My right shoulder, it feels heavier. Like I've regained a little bit of what's missing from that hole._

It was utter chaos when Aizen arrived. He knew he'd been had when he figured out that there were no souls in Karakura Town.

"Hello, again."

Sparks flew as Edward's gigantic sword was activated and hit Aizen's. Aizen gave him a wild smile and pushed him away, firing off kido at the hollow.

Edward simply dodged, yelling out his attack. **"**_**Truth is Strength!**_** Truth is Strength!"**

An entire building collapsed as the metal keeping it up was made into a collection of spears, shooting at Aizen with an amazing amount of speed and force.

Aizen laughed cockily, stepping backwards and away from the hollow's attacks. With a mighty boom, Edward created a Sonido and aimed his massive cleaver of a sword at Aizen's back. Aizen, sensing it with ease, shot upwards and avoided the attack.

"FUCK!" Edward screamed. He flipped his sword downwards, aiming at the ground. _"__**Fighting is Useless!**_** Fighting is Useless!"** It hit the ground with a dull boom, crackling red light dancing along the broken pavement.

He cried out in satisfaction as the ground decomposed, stopping at the second stage of alchemy.  
Dust rose into the air, obstructing Aizen's view of him. Edward simply jumped upwards, flash-stepping towards Aizen. He dove out of the dust cloud, landing above it. He held his hand out, crushing it into a fist. Down below, his sword crumbled to dust. Opening his hand, he called out to his zanpakutou, summoning it into his hand again. With a command, his sword began to glow golden, and his body started to glow the same colour.

"_**Changes Are Made By the Truth!**_** Changes Are Made By the Truth!" **

His sword disappeared in a flash of golden electricity, only to be replaced by a razor sharp boomerang. He threw it with surprising accuracy, and Aizen barely dodged it. It flew by his head, turning around to come back and barely miss him again. Just as it was about to come back to him, it turned back into a sword, and Edward caught it by the handle, swinging it around in front of him with ease.

"Enough playing around." Aizen let loose a huge amount of spiritual pressure, clearing all the dust away.

Edward's eyes narrowed; his voice a growl as he spoke, "Never, you stupid, sadistic bastard."

Aizen smirked, "Well, then, I guess I'll have to make you realise how foolish it is to oppose me."

"I guess you will."

Yay! It's done! Sorry about the wait. I would've had it done a while ago, but my damn life is so busy that I haven't had the time. Hope you liked it. I figured you've had enough of the fillers and wanted some real action. Although I personally love fillers. Sorry to say, this story looks like it'll be done in about two more chapters.

And I have a beta! Although, I'm not sure I absolutely need one, she really helped me with this chapter! Thank you, Cadens Stella! You should check out her stories ;)

Wish me luck this week, my basketball team has a tournament. Hope we win again this year! (Plus, I'm captain, so you know it'd be nice to win)

Thank you for reading! Review if you like. I'm still celebrating that I got over one hundred reviews!


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